


How To Spite Authority (While getting something out of it yourself)

by Honey_this_mirror



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Comedy, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/F, Frerard, Gay, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Lesbian, M/M, Mental Illness, Some Fluff, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, my chemical romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honey_this_mirror/pseuds/Honey_this_mirror
Summary: Gerard gets sent to a Christian gay conversion camp after he gets caught kissing a guy he didn’t even like. Being gay was hard enough. Being gay and outed made him want to hurt himself. Being gay, outed, and forced into this conversion camp hurts him badly and he plans to kill himself when he gets back- but in a camp full of gay kids like himself, could he possibly be saved from his own plans?Trigger warning, read at your own risk- however, if you think that's so, then don't read it. It's better to be safe, y'all.





	1. How did it end up like this?

“It was only a kiss, mom.” I protested, my voice quiet, as my mother raised her voice.

“Only a kiss? Gerard, have you lost your damn mind?! You’re a boy and you kissed another boy! I will not tolerate this behaviour!”

“I don’t even like him...I was...I was just curious…” That much was true. We were both just curious. I could feel my tear ducts slowly giving in. I crossed my arms and hugged myself, but that didn’t stop tears from rolling down my cheeks. No sobbing or anything. Just silent tears.

My mother got even more furious, as if that was possible. She shook her head in disbelief. “No. No! I won’t let this go on any longer than it has. You’re sick, Gerard. You are a homosexual!”

I said nothing. There was no more lying. She knew. I really was a homosexual. I was gay. I liked boys. Not girls. I’m a boy who likes boys. And all my life I’ve been told that I’m “born sick”.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and looked down, a hand on her hip. “I have no choice. I can’t have a gay son. You’re going to camp. They’ll get it out of you.”

My tears of fear turned into rage. I cry when I’m angry sometimes, and right now, I was more than angry. “What?!” I hollered at her, unfolding my arms with a fist forming.

“You heard me young man.” She seethed darkly, and I don’t think I’d ever been more scared of her in my life.

“You think you can do it just like that, huh? You think you can just “pray the gay away”?! No! It doesn’t work that way! It doesn’t fucking work that way!” I slammed my fist down on the table and my emotions seemed to be pumping instead of blood and it was as if I could feel it in my veins. It was like syringe in a needle. I fucking hate needles. Except this syringe was going to mix despair and desperation with my unchecked rage.

“Watch your language!” She chided sharply, holding out a finger to shut me up.

“You are going to change Gerard, whether you like it or not.” She scowled dirtily at me as if I had just pissed in a baptismal pool. And the thing was, I wouldn’t even think of doing something like that. I might strongly disagree with Christianity, but that’s unthinkably disrespectful.

I didn’t do anything to disrespect her beliefs. I was just gay. I was just a young homosexual, minding his own business.

I just loved who I loved and that’s it. I wasn’t going to hurt anybody. The only person I had any nerve to hurt right now was myself, because I realized that the world may never understand that I can’t change. I tried. I couldn’t. I can’t. I won’t. I seriously wanted to blow my brains right now because if this was going to be my life, I didn’t want to live it. Maybe it would teach her a lesson. Or maybe it wouldn’t, and she’d just be glad I was dead. 

My thoughts, so undetailed and unrefined, were pitiful, to say the least.

I stared blankly at her. “I can’t change.” I murmured dryly, barely audible. I couldn’t force myself to choke out a sound loud enough for her to hear. I didn’t want to.

“What did you just say?” She berated, grabbing me by the ear and pulling me forcefully and fuck, it hurt.

“N-nothing…” I wearied, my throat suddenly feeling tight like I was about to sob.

She let me go harshly and gave me a look that shot me like a bullet. I was beginning to wish it was a real one. “Now march. Go march upstairs and pack your clothes.”

I did want her to go any further with what could be physical harm so I started to go upstairs like she told me. On my way, I saw my little brother Mikey standing at the top of the steps. Oh god. I thought. He heard. The petrified expression on his face said it all. Seeing him just look at me so uncertainly completely broke me. As soon as I reached my bedroom, I slammed the door shut and I collapsed onto my knees in front of my bed and broke out into ugly sobbing. My sweater and my sheets were going to be soaked in tears because my face was buried in them both. 

I just didn’t know what to do.

Should I run away? Should I kill myself? Should I go, get more depressed, and then kill myself? The fact that two of the things I had thought of involved killing myself made me a little shaken. I just couldn’t believe that this was happening. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to go to a conversion camp, but I sure as fuck didn’t want to stay here any longer. I hated what this all did to me. I’ve just jumped headfirst into a sea of irrational thinking and I was starting to drown. But what about Mikey? What does he think of mom? What does he think of me? What if he was gay too? 

The thought of mom hurting Mikey like she just hurt me made my stomach turn and twist. And the realization that I wasn’t going to ever be straight and I had nowhere to go after the camp hit me like a train, making me feel more nauseous. I lifted myself to my feet and gingerly made my way to the washroom, because having it in my head that I could never be truly happy because the world hated me tossed my insides around. I collapsed onto my knees again in front of the toilet and it hurt, and I let everything go. It was only bile, and from there I just started sobbing harder.

I crawled pathetically to the bathroom door so I could close it. I didn’t want anybody to see me like this, especially not Mikey. It felt as if I’d never stop crying while I curled up on the floor, still crying. I didn’t know exactly where this came from, but my first instinct when I lifted my face off the ground was to go for the loose blades for the non-disposable razors. I opened the cabinet under the sink and fumbled for the package. When I got to it, I basically ripped it open, about half a dozen tiny blades spilling everywhere. I stuffed all but one of them back in the bag and tossed it back into the cabinet. I rolled up my sleeve and turned on the water in the bathtub.

I didn’t even hesitate.

I just went for the first veins I saw like I was one of those evil doctors that gave people needles.

And it hurt so goddamn much.

As soon as I put my gross bleeding arm under the running water, there was a nimble knock on the door. “Gerard?” The person said softly. “Are you okay?”

Fuck. It was Mikey.

I glanced at the door to see if I had locked it, but no. Of course I hadn’t. And the thing was, I didn’t even want to die. I was too young. I was only seventeen, goddammit. Maybe I could never be happy, but I still didn’t want to die. I immediately regretted all of this, especially after the door started to open. I covered my face as if it would change what was happening.

I didn’t even look at Mikey but I knew he had frozen at the doorstep. I felt so bad. I’d felt like I’d hurt my brother more than I hurt myself.

“Oh my god, Gee.” Every one of Mikey’s words dripped with horror. He pulled me away from the water and reached over for the cabinet, the pack of blades were falling out because I’d put it back so carelessly. He took out an Ace bandage and started wrapping it around my arm.

I was just feebly lying there while my baby brother held me and wrapped my lacerated arm. 

“I’m so sorry, Mikey.” I forced out. It was hard to talk after crying so much. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I…” I couldn’t even bring myself to finish my own sentence.

“It’s okay...It’s okay.” He comforted me, and pulled my sleeve back down. His voice was shaky and his eyes started getting teary. “I’m just glad I got you in time.”

“Don’t tell mom. Please, please don’t tell mom.” I pleaded, but Mikey seemed unsure of himself.

“Don’t tell me what?”

Great.

This was just a fucking shitshow.

Mom’s jaw dropped when she saw the blood in the bathtub and on the floor, and the bloody razor blade on the floor. She looked like she was about to scream or puke like I did. Both Mikey and I just stared back, both of us with shocked expressions. That was most definitely not expected.

She pointed to the blood and to Mikey and me, her finger shaking and her eyebrows and voice raised. “See? SEE?! This is what happens! This is how God punishes you for being a homosexual! You’re going to that camp, Gerard!” 

She grabbed me by the wrist and I winced, almost falling because that was on the arm that I’d just cut up and the pain was unbearable. I let out a sound of pain as she basically dragged me out of the bathroom. Mikey tried intervening, but she rebuked him.

“Don’t you even dare try helping him, Michael Way!”

Mikey could do nothing but stand there at this point and I wished I hadn’t looked back, because the last sight I saw before being thrown into my room was his tear-stricken face.

She slammed the door even harder than I had earlier and stared down at me with her arms crossed. “Now pack. You’re leaving tomorrow.”

And without another word, she left.

I wanted to cry again- I really did- but I think all my tears were gone.


	2. We're all gay here

The next day, there was a bus in the front of my house that was gonna take me away to who knows where. It was a regular school bus, but there was a cross on more than one of the windows. I rolled my eyes at how they tried to make it seem “normal” by using a school bus. Like, you now, one of the ones that says cheesy shit like “carrying the future”. That morning my mom was awfully upfront and passive with me. After brushing my teeth and showering, I tried eating Corn Flakes but I just had literally no appetite at all. My mom was sitting across from me on the kitchen table, trying to look like she was indulged in reading the newspaper. I know she was just flipping through and skimming it because she never read the newspaper. She just wanted to avoid me at all costs. Bitch.

I went outside and in front of the bus with my duffel bag that had all my clothes and toiletries in it and realized I didn’t have anything to do. I did have my cellphone, but I really only used it to take pictures occasionally and call and text and we probably wouldn’t be able to do any of those things there. I regretted not bringing my sketchbook and pencils. I’d accidentally left them in Mikey’s room. I started stepping into the bus, but the driver stopped me and said I should wait for my family to say bye. I waited for about three minutes in the cool, late autumn wind, and nobody came out. I was disappointed to not see Mikey, because he was the only person I actually wanted to say goodbye to, even if I was pissed that my mom didn’t even have the audacity to say goodbye to her son.

Who knows, my mom could have put him on sleeping pills so he missed my departure for all I knew.

But to my delight, I saw Mikey run out of the house with something in his hand- it was a bag. I smiled seeing him, but it turned into a sad smile because I knew that I wouldn’t see him for a whole entire month. When he came up to me, I hugged him tight.

“I’m gonna miss you so fucking much.” I said, somewhat muffled because I was hugging him so tight.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Gee.” He replied sadly. I could actually sense genuine sadness in his voice. I didn’t like seeing him so distressed these past couple instances. 

“By the way, Gee, I don’t care if you’re gay. I support you. I love you.” He whispered in my ear so that the bus driver couldn’t tell what he was saying because he was probably just as bigoted as the bastards who ran the camp.

“I love you too.” The fact that he said that made me feel even more stupid for what I’d done last night. It was like I was saying a second goodbye, because last night if I had actually died, I would have said goodbye to the world. I guess it was for real this time, because as soon as I let go of my brother and stepped onto that bus, I felt like I had died inside completely.

“Wait!” He passed the bag to me. I looked inside. My sketchbook! “I thought you might want this. You left it in my room.”

I grinned at him. “Thanks, Mikey.”

“No problem, brother.” Mikey grinned back and we hugged again. It didn’t last so long this time, because the bus driver rushed me onto the bus. I started making my way up the steps. 

“Goodbye.” I uttered, trying to not cry.

“It’s a see you later. I’ll see you in a month.” Mikey waved goodbye as the bus doors closed.

The bus had already started moving as I walked down the aisle to find a seat. The bus was pretty empty. I found one at the very back that was completely empty and took it after putting my duffel bag in this little compartment above all the seats. It only proved me more right that they tried to make it seem normal when it really wasn’t, because all the school buses I’d ever been on were free of this little compartment. It was really handy and I was glad it was there so that I didn’t have to squish the bag between my knees and the seat, but the fact that it wasn’t actually a normal school bus pissed me off a little.

I tried not to let it bother me as I looked around at kids in seats nearby. There were two girls next to me holding hands, one of them asleep on the other’s shoulder. The girl who was awake looked terrified. They both looked younger than me, no more than fifteen. Maybe even thirteen or fourteen. The awake girl caught my glance and held the other girl’s hand more protectively.

“H-hi.” She stammered timidly. “I’m Jamia.” Jamia looked over to the sleeping girl who I’m guessing was her girlfriend. “That’s Lindsey.”

“I’m Gerard” I replied, almost equally as timid. “How old are you two? You don’t have to answer.” I asked that because I found it even more disturbing that teenagers as young as they looked would get sent to this fucking camp.

“I’m fourteen, Lindsey is thirteen. She has a late birthday. How old are you?”

“Seventeen.” I swallowed hard at how young the two were. Not that I was shocked at their ages, but my disturbance was relevant. Thirteen and fourteen. That means that they had just barely started high school.

Jamia sighed profoundly, pushing a strand of Lindsey’s hair out of her face. Lindsey woke up, her eyes fluttering open. She looked up at Jamia and smiled a little. Wow, so horrible. So disgusting. Young love. What sinners. So much sin.

So. Much. Sarcasm.

I don’t see how people could think this is wrong just because “God said so” and “it’s Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve” or some shit like that. I just don’t get it. I don’t get it. They’re fucking freshmen and they act more in love than a lot of married couples I’ve seen. It just made me utterly furious. They’re holding hands, listening to each other as they speak, and guess what? They’re both girls. What do people hate so much about that?

I took a deep breath in to maybe make myself calm down a little more. I clutched the bag that had my sketchbook in it tight. I had artist’s block and didn’t know what to draw, so I just looked out the window at the houses passing by, eventually seeing the sun glow behind the clouds in the dark morning. It still wasn’t sunny outside even after the sun had risen- the sky was a dismal grey and it looked like it was going to rain. I guess that would be nice.

After a while of just watching the yellow dashes on the road and the bars on the fences and the houses go by, I got really tired. I didn’t sleep much last night, and from what it looked like it was going to be a very long drive considering how many empty seats there were on the bus. I’d also noticed a list of “campers” on the dashboard, and it looked pretty long. There were probably about thirty or forty people on the list, and there were ten or less already here. I closed my eyes, hoping that maybe I’d just wake up in my bed and realize this was all just a really sickening nightmare.

I had no idea how long I’d slept, but I stood up a little to see how many people were on the bus. It was a little over half full now, and only one girl and one boy were talking to each other. The only sounds were them two talking and the whirring and bumpy sound of the bus moving. We came to another stop and a boy walked onto the bus, not saying goodbye to anyone. He just shook his head when the bus driver told him he should wait.

His head was down and his hood was up as he plodded down the aisle all the way to the back where I was sitting. I guess there were no empty seats, because he groaned a little when he sat next to me. He glanced over at me for a second and pushed his hair out of his face so he could get a look at me I guess, and oh my god, he was fucking gorgeous. I felt a lot less dead inside now. I kinda hoped that we got to choose who we roomed with, because I wouldn’t mind sharing rooms with an incredibly hot boy- sleeping in the same room, changing in the same room. But they probably wouldn’t, so I didn’t get that hope too high.

Despite this, being the slight flirt that I am, I decided to say something. “Hey. What’s your name?” I queried, pulling a strand of my hair behind my ear, because fuck it- if I was gonna flirt with a guy at gay conversion camp, I was gonna look fucking pretty, okay?

“I’m Frank.” He mumbled, avoiding eye contact with me. I was hoping I was as charming as I thought I was and I could get him in a conversation.

Well it looks like I was gonna have a conversation similar to what I’d had with Jamia, with the whole small talk thing, “what’s your name” and “how old are you” and it had a pretty good chance of going nowhere. But I didn’t exactly care, because I had nothing to lose.

“So how old are you?” I continued with my pathetic little questionnaire, and I couldn’t tell if Frank was irritated by my persistent efforts to initiate a conversation or vaguely astonished that I was still trying.

“Sixteen.” He mumbled again, but it was a little louder and more coherent this time since his head wasn’t completely down anymore. I think that’s a good sign. 

But wow, sixteen. Never thought I’d ever want to be topped by someone even slightly younger than me, but I mean it didn’t really matter in this case. Because there’s a 99% chance that we weren’t gonna fuck. And even if we did, it still wouldn’t matter to me. It’s completely legal.

“So why’re you here? This camp?” I was not expecting Frank to start posing questions to prompt this conversation further, but I felt more confident when he did.

“Oh, well, you know, I’m here because I got curious with a guy I wasn’t even into and oops- snap crackle pop motherfucker, mom walks in, screams ‘bloody murder’ but it was closer to ‘bloody faggot’.” I chuckled a little, and it made me happy that I got a smile from Frank himself. “You? If you wanna, y’know, share.”

Frank looked up to the ceiling, smiling, almost laughing. “Oh god…it’s- fuckin- it’s really stupid.” He shook his head, turning to look at me a little, head still tilted up.

“That’s okay. You know what I think is stupid? The fact that this camp even exists.” I pointed in the direction of the bus driver, actually hoping that they heard me because they fucking deserved it. I don’t care if they say I’ve got an attitude. 

I can be a sassy bitch if I want to.

“Well…” Frank looked back down, trying to smile. “Dad read my diary. Told the local church. They sent me here.” He laughed a little, probably because he didn’t know what else to do. Because of this,I wondered if he was one of those people who laughed at funerals. I kind of hoped not, because if we were ever at the same funeral I’d probably start giggling because his laugh was just so fucking cute. I tried not to right now because he seemed a little uncomfortable.

“Just feels weird to say I have a diary. I feel like a teenage girl…” This time a genuine chuckle escaped his lips, not one out of nervousness. I had the freedom to giggle now. 

“When did you find out you were coming here?” He asked. Goddamn, I’ve got to up my questionnaire game.

I raised an eyebrow, and I now understood why Frank was laughing a little before, or at least trying to, because this was weird for me to talk about too because of how badly I had reacted. “Uh, last night. You?”

“Last night?!” Frank exclaimed. A couple heads turned. “That’s fucking rough. I found out a month ago.”

“Heh, yeah it was pretty rough.” I tried to keep smiling but then I remembered just how rough it was, because I remembered the Ace bandage on my arm. I held it close to me, even though I knew it was well covered by my sleeve. I guess I wasn’t as upset as I could have been because at least I had enough self-awareness to recognize how bad of a decision it was. I’m not gonna lie- I was probably gonna want to do it again after this camp was finished. Or even during the time of the camp. 

And what scared me was the fact that I could actually die. I think I needed help...but I don’t know how to ask for it. I mean, what do you say? “Hey, so I was sent to a gay conversion camp and my mom hates me because I still like boys and now I wanna try to kill myself again because life is an emotional fucking roller coaster, one moment I can feel dead inside then I can feel alive for the mere moments that I’m trying to flirt with a stupidly attractive guy sitting next to me”.

For a while neither of us said anything, and Frank took out an MP3 player and put his headphones in. In this moment my artist’s block went away and I decided that I wanted to draw Frank, but I figured that that was a little too creepy, not to mention, painfully predictable. It’s something you’d totally roll your eyes about when reading a story because it was fucking cool and romantic the first time it was put in a story, but then variations made by wannabes of that amazing story made it super unoriginal.

Since I didn’t have the audacity to draw Frank, I tried getting other ideas from him. I was probably just gonna end up making something stupid and somewhat hysterical. I studied him closely in the corner of my eye. No, I wasn’t checking him out. I was studying him. There was a tiny skull on his hoodie, so I decided I’d draw a skeleton person on one side of the page. It ended up looking kind of cartoony and very much like a rough sketch. I decided I’d go with the stupid and hysterical idea, so I started to draw myself on the other side pointing to the skeleton who had a label on his forehead that said “FRANK” in all capital letters. I made a speech bubble on both ends.

My speech bubble said “Hey! You’re fuckin cute!”

And I had no idea what to put for skeleton Frank’s, so I just put three dots in the middle. An ellipsis. It wasn’t too bad because was proud of myself for remembering that an ellipsis was called an ellipsis, but it had truly turned out to be a thing of sheer boredom. After I was done sketching, I remembered where I was going. Rain started pouring almost instantly after I had that thought, so I closed my eyes and tried to just sleep.

I was in for quite a rude awakening when the bus came to an abrupt stop and a man and a woman stepped onto the bus. Frank had also fallen asleep, and so had both Lindsey and Jamia. It was probably around 7:00 PM when we got there, since it was moderately dark outside. 

“Welcome the camp, boys and girls.” The girl started, sounding rather cheery. A little too cheery. She seemed like she hated her job but was trying to play the part.

The man spoke up. “Welcome, that’s sister Pamela and I’m brother Jack.” The fact that they just had to add “brother” and “sister” as a prefix made me slightly irritated. Like no, you’re not my siblings. I have one sibling and his name is Mikey and he’s not trying to make me someone I’m not.

“So I know all of you are here because you’ve been faced with a problem” Jack (yes, I’m just calling him Jack, I’m not going for that brother and sister shit) cleared his throat, “a problem that likely gets in the way of your everyday life and your relationship with the Lord.”

I heard a couple soft groans and eyerolls- yes, it is possible to hear eyerolls. I can just sense them. I know they’re there. Frank was especially unimpressed, groaning, rolling his eyes, and saying “Oh, please.”

“However, we at camp Eyes Straight Above are here to help you rise up above that tremendous problem and align yourself with the great Lord’s way of thinking.” Jack’s voice was annoying me. It was thoroughly Southern and he spoke like he was sarcastically asking you a question. Great, not even five minutes into this month and I already want to jump out the goddamn window because of this guy’s annoying voice and all the bullshit.

Also, “Eyes Straight Above”- what a stupidly funny camp name.

He cleared his throat again, this time more to get everyone’s attention again and to retrieve their eyes that had been rolled all the way back into their skulls. “Now, the person you’re sittin’ beside will be the person you room with, unless they are of the opposite sex, because this camp s’good that you’ll find yourself attracted to ‘em in no time.”

The fuck? Mister, do you even realize what it means to be gay? I mean, I’m not complaining, but if you wanna prevent us from fucking each other, then putting us in the same rooms might not be the greatest idea.

Frank snickered and Jamia and Lindsey looked really excited to be sharing a room. I giggled myself, because this man must be very stupid and I was pretty excited to be sharing a room with Frank. That’s something I did a lot of- giggling. Giggling and crying. It’s weird, but I found it slightly amusing.

“Well, I bet y’all are dying to eat something and get inside the building. Get your bags and get off the bus one by one.” Jack and Pamela got off the bus as everyone started standing up and getting their bags. Frank got his out and mine too and held it out.

“This one yours?” He asked, handing it to me.

“Yeah, thanks.” I smiled tiredly, taking it. It was funny, when you’re attracted to someone even the simplest action like passing over a duffel bag can make your heart go fucking crazy.

Lindsey and Jamia were laughing amongst each other. “Yeah, I sure can’t wait to eat.” Jamia teased Lindsey, putting emphasis on the “eat”. Lindsey pinched her arm a little. “Neither can I.”

It seemed to be an extremely kinky conversation and I think both Frank and I had an idea of what it meant for the two of them to “eat”, because we made eye contact and he raised an eyebrow. I also noticed in this moment that Frank had a lip ring and a tattoo of a scorpion on his neck. I could see the tattoo now because he had his hood off now, but I’m surprised I didn’t notice the lip ring. Now I couldn’t stop staring at his lips. Perfect. Nice fapping material, right there.

We went inside the building that was covered in crosses and scriptures and pictures of Jesus on the wall. There was also a picture of Jesus with a rainbow in the background. Jamia pointed it out and commented on how hilarious it was that this was probably the most wildly homophobic building there was for miles and out of all the pictures they choose they choose one with a rainbow on it. She was totally right, even though she did get a couple dirty looks from councillors standing around.

Each of us got a key to our room and a room number. Frank and I walked down a corridor with yet more religious stuff. I think it was a form of brainwashing. They just keep saying the same thing over and over again until they think it’s planted in your brain. Then after they make sure you go to church so that you can stay brainwashed and then they’ll ask you for money and say to do it for God. But that’s enough about religion, I just want to say again how happy I was to be sharing a room with Frank, even if I was gonna want to die in a month then decide I don’t want to die as I’m about to die.

There was a bunk bed, a desk, a garbage can, and a laundry basket in the room. It was pretty decent. There was also a picture of Jesus on the wall that said “God’s watching”. I wonder if that was a mechanism to keep kids from having sex with each other or masturbating in the room. Frank tossed his bag on one end of the bed, and I did the same.

“Alright top or bottom?” He asked, but it sounded more like a statement. I raised my eyebrows a bit, taken aback. I didn’t know he was into the whole hookup thing and I didn’t know what to think.

“Uhm- I didn’t, uhh...excuse me?” I stepped back a little, unsure of what to say, somewhat flustered and giggly, playing with a strand of my hair like a twelve-year-old girl.

Frank scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I meant for the bed, you dirty minded little shit.” He laughed a little, because fuck- it was hilarious.

“For the bed, huh?” Yeah, there was no way my dirty mind would let that one slip too. Frank rolled his eyes again, he was doing a lot of that today. “Okay fine. Bottom.” My subliminal-ness wasn’t that subliminal...I’m pretty sure he got the message because I was still giggling uncontrollably.

“Good. Because I like to...rather, the top.” Damn, this was just going to be firewood for any fantasies later on.

Because fuck. At this point, I don’t think either Frank or I would care if one of us started saying any more kinky shit. We'd gotten this far. We've broken the ice for dirty jokes and what could be considered dirty talk, we could do a lot of things now.

As I fell asleep that night, I realized that I'd never been surrounded by so many people like me in my entire life.

We're all gay here, I thought.


	3. Day one

In the morning, both Frank and I were awoken from our sleep with a loud, banging knock on the door. As my eyes opened, I heard the voice that I didn't even have to learn to hate.

"Rise and shine, boys! Today's your first day of learning to be a real man! Get up and open this darned door so I can see you!" Jack demanded, literally no hint of mercy in his tone.

Both Frank and I groaned. “I’ll go.” I suggested, pulling the sheets off my body and being exposed to the cold morning. “Fuck, it’s freez-”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll go.” Frank intervened, starting to climb down the side of the bed.

“No Frank, I insist. I’ll do it.”

“It’s okay Gerard, I can.”

“I insist, Fr-”

“OPEN UP, WAY, IERO!” Jack commanded roughly, interrupting Frank and I’s microscopic, polite argument. We both rushed to the door, and both of our hands reached the knob at the same time. My whole body flushed.

“I-I can open it.” He said, just above a whisper.

I nodded agreeing, and frantic. “Okay. Okay. That’s fine.” I nodded again, and as the door opened, we were both somewhat squished up against each other at the doorway which was made small by the not fully opened door. I caught myself about to gasp as his bare and tattooed chest brushed against my arm. I’d realized in this moment that Frank was noticeably shorter than me. I was also somewhat shocked that a sixteen-year-old had multiple tattoos, but I wasn’t complaining.

Fuck it. I seriously don’t care at all if he’s short. Still hot.

“Sorry.” We said in unison to each other. 

I am uncomfortable.

Jack scowled at Frank. “What are you trying to do, boy?” He spat, glanced between the two of us. We also exchanged glances. “Impress your fellow faggot?”

“No sir.” Frank said submissively, looking down.

“Well then put a shirt on next time!” He hollered. Frank tensed up a little. I was surprised he wasn’t standing up for himself more, because he seemed like someone who just said things as they were. That made me mad.

“You are at this camp because you are still a boy, not a man! You will never be a man unless you stop this behaviour and actually want to-”

I cut him off. “Excuse me sir, but I think we’d progress much more if you’d kindly shut the fuck up.” I started out by sounding sweet and polite, then my tone grew bitter and I flipped the bird.

Jack looked like he was about to slap a bitch, and Frank looked at me in disbelief. Jack grabbed me by the ear, just like my mother had. “Your mother told me you had a bad mouth.” And again, just like my mother, he harshly released me.

There was a silence, and Jack eyed the two of us. “Now go. Get ready. It’s 6:30, be downstairs by 7:15 sharp.” He finished before walking to the next door, rudely awakening the next pair.

Frank and I shut the door as soon as we composed ourselves again. He leaned against the closed door.

“Thanks for, y’know, standing up for me.” He uttered, somewhat embarrassed.

“No problem.” I smiled, trying to cultivate my typical demeanor again. I’d noticed that even that had somewhat been dried out of me with these mood swings I’d been having.

Frank opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped. Instead he walked over to his bag to get some clothes out. “Gotta get ready fast.” He muttered, pulling on a shirt.

I had been so distracted by Frank putting on a shirt that I sort of spaced out. I don’t know why I found this nearly as hot as him without a shirt, but I guessed that it was probably because I could now see the sides of his body. I started putting on my own clothes and I don’t know if this was my imagination, but Frank peered at me a little and a tiny smirk fell upon his face. I bit my lip to keep from giggling or blushing, and I didn’t even care if it was just my imagination or not because whatever it was, it boosted my self esteem for the day by like, 100%.

After we were both dressed, we made our way to the locker room and on the door, there was a piece of paper with designated times for showering. It was 7:00 at both morning and night, and it was almost 6:50 right now. I wondered if Frank was going to shower. I knew for sure that if he was, then I was too because hell, I couldn’t get enough of seeing him. And being naked in the same room together, even if we couldn’t see each other through the cubicles, was a rather appealing scenario to me.

We were both at the sinks and I started washing myself up, quickly because I wanted as much time as I could get to talk to Frank. It’s not like I had a crush on him or anything. I just found him really, really cute and we had something in common. After I washed my face, I waited for Frank.

I hesitated to ask this, but if I wanted to know I had to ask now. “Are you showering this morning?” I asked, a little too nimbly.

“Nah. I prefer showering at night, I dunno why.” He stated right before wetting his face.

I nodded, as if that was a response he could see. He spoke again after he’d dried off.

“Are you?” He asked as we started leaving the washroom.

“Me? Nope.” I replied, less nimbly, but I should have been more confident in my answer.

He nodded, acknowledging what I said. It was now 7:00, and we had some time before we had to be downstairs so we went back to the room. I sat on my bed, and checked my cellphone which I still didn’t believe I was allowed to have. Mikey had sent me like, a million texts.

‘hey big bro i hope ur going ok text me if u can’

‘wait r u rooming with a person’

‘is it a guy’

‘u should, ya know ;;))”

I shook my head, smiling like an idiot. I was probably blushing too. I texted him back:

‘yes its a guy and hes fucking cute but no im not gonna, ya know’

‘but if something changes then ur hearing all about it’

I didn’t even try to bite back a giggle. I just let myself go completely, and broke out into laughter. Frank looked down from the top and smiled. “Who’re you texting?”

“My brother.” I stifled through laughter.

I guess my laughter was contagious, because Frank chuckled a bit himself. “What’s so funny?”

I shook my head, burying my face in my arms because there was no way he was gonna see these texts. “Oh, nothing.”

“Sure, sure” Frank replied, sarcasm hanging on for dear life. He was good at that. I bet he was good at other things too...fuck, I can’t get my head out of the gutter. “You close to your brother?”

I tried not to show how ecstatic I was that he was actually interested. “Yeah, really close. Here’s a picture of him.” I flipped through my contacts and passed my cellphone up to Frank.

“Damn, he’s good looking.” He started. “You two look a lot alike.” He passed the phone back to me.

It was definitely no secret that I was blushing now, because oh my god- who wouldn’t be? That was like a hidden compliment. Frank, who was basically daddy in my mind even though I didn’t even have a daddy kink, thought that my brother was good looking, AND THEN he says we look similar?! Well. Fuck. Me. Runnin’.

“We should, uh…” I was smiling so much that you could hear it in my voice. I ran my fingers through my black hair, noticing how I was complete opposite to it, because it was pretty damn straight and I was pretty damn gay. I tucked the strands at the front behind one of my ears. “...get going soon.”

“Yep.” He concurred, and came down from the top bunk.

I put my phone back in the bag with my sketchbook and walked out the door with Frank. As awkward as it was earlier getting basically stuck in the doorframe, I kind of hoped it would happen again. It didn’t, but I was so fucking charmed right now that the walk downstairs was silent, but not awkward.

\----

“Boys follow jack, ladies follow me!” A woman with a high pitched voice and a southern accent just as strong as Jack’s hollered in the lobby.

Frank and I stuck together. We started following Jack who led us to a room with chairs, a small podium, and a projector with a screen. Jack told us to take a seat. Frank and I sat at the very back and we received a seething glare from him that just made us both snicker. There was also someone else in here who Jack was eyeing as well. A boy whispered to him, and all I heard in reply was “Shh! There’s titties in this and it’s so much better than the video for me. It’s my second time here. I know these things.”

My jaw dropped a little. This wasn’t a guy- she was a girl, who looked a lot like a guy. Damn girl, you slick! I thought that was an excellent idea- but I couldn’t get away with it myself, because although I have long-ish hair, I don’t ever pass as female and they’d notice me right away. I tapped Frank on the shoulder.

“Frank, there’s a girl in here. Apparently it’s her second time in this camp.” I whispered.

Frank furrowed his eyebrows. “What? Why?”

“Apparently she’s here to see tits in the video they’re showing us.”

He looked over to her, an impressed look on his face. “Wow, that’s actually pretty badass.”

I nodded in agreement. Jack cleared his throat loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Now, a special video has been prepared just for all of you young men to watch. Take notes and reflect these words upon yourselves.” He announced before starting the video, which I imagined to be full of bullshit.

“Life” The man in the video started. I liked how the chose the most unattractive old guy as if it would steer our attraction.

Bullshit, right off the bat. I could sense it.

“A gift from god, a gift that he wants you to use in the best way…” Fuck it all. I was already exasperated and completely tuned out. I’d gone to church in my childhood and they said stuff like this, but paired with a video of pretty girls (I may be gay but I still know girls are pretty, even if I’m not attracted to them) and families and beach montages- no thanks. Too much cheesy bullshit for me.

The video seemed to last forever, and the only time that anything stood out to me was a shot of a girl lying naked on a bed with sideboob showing. At this moment, it had seeped in even more that this camp was gonna do nothing at all because I wasn’t even remotely turned on. I wasn’t grossed out or anything- it was just someone’s body- but I wasn’t attracted. The girl in the room, on the other hand, seemed extremely pleased with herself.

After the video ended, Jack called out the girl. “Now Stella, don’t think I didn’t recognize your face from last time. Get back to the girls’ room.” He scolded, shooing her away.

Stella stood up, hands in the air. “Ok brother jackass-cracker, I just wanted to see some titties. That’s all. I’m out.” Before leaving, she put two middle fingers up. “Suck a cock, bitch!” She exclaimed spiritedly, running down the hallway.

Jack sighed, ruffled by her behaviour. I just watched in astoundment, wondering how someone could have the guts to do that. I glanced at Frank, who looked just as impressed as I was. He then started a slow clap, which carried throughout the room. Everyone joined in, because it’s not like they’re gonna kick out a whole room of kids. He scowled, even more dirtily than earlier.

“Now boys, that is an example of a girl that will never have a husband. She’s not worthy of your respect and love.” 

And this is where we all burst out into laughter, because of how utterly stupid this man was.

“What’s so funny?!” He hollered furiously. That just made us laugh harder.

And all of a sudden, a voice came from the door frame. “Oh brother Jack, we’re LESBIANS! We’re fucking DYKES! We want those tits. We want that woman meat. NOT a husband!” Of course, it was Jamia- mocking and exaggerating every word, Lindsey behind her, laughing her ass off.

Damn, lesbians are hardcore as fuck.

“You two ladies get back here, right now!” That same lady from earlier screeched from down the hall. Lindsey and Jamia were laughing all the way back to the girls’ room.

Well this has been one fuck of a first day.

And havoc has been wreaked by some cool lesbians.

\----

We had been brought to a garage looking place with tools and wood and stuff in it, as well as a wildly sexist poster that said “be a man” on it with a guy with massive arms and a woman washing dishes on her knees on the background. Fuckwads. My grandma had always taught my brother and I to respect women, and this facility seemed to fully go against gender equality. It made me wonder what the girls were doing.

“Now, I know that a lot of you boys haven’t been taught things that boys should be taught and that’s part of why you’ve showed up to like things you shouldn’t. I’m here to show you how real men work.” Jack lectured, walking back and forth, a hammer in his hand.

“Today we have a car that has a flat tire. I know that surely none of you know how to fix this basic problem, so you’re gonna bond in your masculinity together and figure it out by yourselves like a real man would.” I rolled my eyes. How the fuck did me liking boys connect to not being able to pump a flat tire?

Frank raised his hand. “Excuse me sir, but I’m 100% sure that this car doesn’t have a dick for me to suck, so my homosexuality will not be getting in the way of putting air in this tire anytime soon.” He exhorted smugly. “In fact, I could probably blow it up using my own damn lungs, because after all, it is called a blowjob.” And he comes back with another one, putting emphasis on the “blow”.

His wit and confidence was sharp and fucking hot as hell, and I sure wasn’t the only guy in the room who noticed. Jack just stood there like something seriously strange and traumatizing had just happened. Frank smirked, looking him straight in the eye- well, as straight as Frank could get.

Let’s just say the rest of that session consisted of passive aggression from Jack and all of us effortlessly filling the tire with air. Success is the best revenge. Have you ever noticed how the way “success” is pronounced begins with “suck” as a word? I bet that would make Jack furious. I considered pointing it out at the end of the session, but I chickened out and he’d been showed up pretty damn good by Frank if you ask me.

At lunch, Frank, Lindsey, Jamia, and I sat at the same table. We basically talked about how fun it was to show just how bigoted these assholes were right to their face. It was only a matter of time before someone flashed or pulled their dick out of their pants in spite. Jamia and Lindsey were really cute together. They may have been pretty young, but they were really comfortable and open with each other. Not to mention the devious plans they had to make the councillors want to quit.

The rest of the day was less exciting, but we all got a pretty good laugh out of the stupid things they said. Right now, it wasn’t so much like I thought it would be. I thought it would be completely torturous and I’d be personally attacked right away. But the thing that I noted was that they were all too unintelligent and ignorant to come up with a response to any of our contradictions and they just completely disregarded it and instead of coming up with a comeback, they just resorted to petty eye contact and insults. They were pretty pathetic.

After dinner at 6:00, we had some time to ourselves “to contemplate and pray to the Lord and Saviour”, which I just used to tell Mikey about the first day. He himself was seriously impressed with Frank’s comeback in the first session and was intrigued by the badass lesbians. I missed him already- I had contact with him and it had only been a couple days, but I still missed him so much.

“I’m gonna go make my way to the locker room to shower. Are you gonna go now or tomorrow morning?” Frank asked, holding a towel and a t-shirt in his hand.

“Yep, now.” I replied a little too quickly as I sprang up from the bed, almost hitting my head on the top bunk. I grabbed my towel and a change of clothes and headed out with Frank.

The locker room was filled with half-naked and some fully naked boys. I’d never felt so warm in my entire life as I shifted through them to find an empty cubicle. Frank had taken off his shirt and pants before entering a cubicle, not far from mine. You know, somebody once told me that rain and water often make people 40% hotter. Like when their hair is all wet and their eyelids slightly heavy. She said that even after sweating, because sweating reminded her of something else.

I was considerably hard when I got into the shower because the thought of Frank all wet like that actually served the girl who said that right, and I didn’t think it was possible for him to be any hotter than I already found him to be. I had to take the Ace bandage off and it stung significantly more than when I showered yesterday morning. I tried to distract myself by imagining myself on my knees and blowing Frank, my cheeks sunken in and sucking slightly as I moved up and down his length. In my fantasy, I wrapped my hand around his cock and started pumping and in real life, I was doing the same to myself. I let out a small gasp as tensity started building up inside me and wondered if anyone could hear me, but I didn’t particularly care, because I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who was really horny- for fuck’s sake, we were all guys who liked guys and wanted to fuck guys surrounded by guys and their exposed bodies.

I vividly pictured Frank doing the same as what I was doing right now, his hands covered in his own cum. Swapping back back to the picture of the blowjob, it was my hands covered in large amounts of pre-cum as I put my mouth back onto him. He brought his hand down to run his fingers through my stringy, sweaty hair and gripped the hair at the back of my head to move me faster and I grew with the need for more friction on my own part. I swung my focus to myself for a moment, teasing myself a bit by thumbing the slit slowly, and then going back to pumping vigorously.

In my currently hypersexualized thoughts, Frank had me on my hands and knees and began slowly with his tip. I imagined that it would painful in the beginning, but the deeper he went it would be a sensation I’d never felt before and I didn’t yet have the guts to try on myself. Still though, the thought of it was extremely hot to me. His pace and depth increased, and I let out sounds of ecstasy in response, them being significantly quieter in real life than they were in my head.

And before I knew it, I’d come all over myself and was snapped into the reality of the fact that I had just gotten off to extremely sexual fantasies about a guy I met yesterday.

I figured I’d better hurry up, because the limit in the shower was fifteen minutes and I was planning on brushing my teeth in the shower too. I lathered all over my body, brushed my teeth, and dried off, putting on all my clothes before exiting the cubicle. I didn’t hate my body, but I wasn’t the most body confident person either. When I got out, I saw Frank, only covering his bottom half as he tried to put his clothes back on with limited exposure. I felt my face get hot, considering what I had just done. He had no clue and that humoured me a little.

As he was getting dressed, I saw the side of his body again- but this time slightly below the hips too. I had no idea why I was so attracted to his side, but I tried not to stare as I sat on the bench waiting for him.

“Go ahead, you don’t have to wait.” He said, almost instantly after I sat down on the bench. Geez, he was as hot as I imagined when he was all wet. His hair stuck to his neck and seemed thinned out, and it was pushed completely away from his face. Damn, boy. That’s a nice looking face you’ve got there.

“I know.” I answered, staying in my place. I was gonna wait,

Frank smiled a bit and continued getting dressed. He had a really soft smile- it wasn’t mischievous like he often presented himself, it was pretty serene and pleasant to gaze upon. After he was done, we got back to our room. When we were walking back, he asked me why my arm was bandaged.

“I just got hurt, that’s all.” It wasn’t a lie, but me getting hurt wasn’t the only thing that happened. I think I had hurt Mikey too.

“Hm.” Was all that Frank said in response.

When we got back to the room, I re-organized all my stuff at the foot of the bed. I wasn’t a very tidy person. I always left my art supplies scattered around my paper as I was working and my definition of a clean room was all my clothes shoved messily in my closet, along with my sexuality.

“First day, okay, I guess.” Frank reviewed, taking off the shirt and pants he had just put on. How was he not freezing cold? It was almost winter. But fuck, I wasn’t complaining- he was painfully attractive. I know I keep talking and thinking about it but I just can’t get over it. He was painfully attractive in the sense that he made me so hard that so much blood rushed to my dick that it actually physically hurt a bit. And of course, the slight pain that surely came with being fucked in the ass. By him.

“Yeah, it wasn’t that bad.” I watched Frank as he climbed up the ladder and into bed. I turned off the light in the room and crawled under my own sheets.

“The girls are pretty fearless, eh?” He alleged with a grin on his face. I couldn’t actually see, but I could hear it in his voice. That was something that I could do. I could tell what someone’s face looked like as they spoke, even if I didn’t actually see them.

“Yeah, almost makes me wish I was interested in them. But I like guys too much and I can’t picture myself with a girl at all, or having sex with a girl.” I expressed, not holding anything back. I didn’t find it too hard to express how I felt, because I did it so often in art.

“Oh, what I’d give to be straight.” Frank said tiredly. “But I mean, I’ve been this way since I was young and I know I can’t change. So might as well accept myself, right? Right.”

“Right.” I added. “But hey- at least change rooms and locker rooms are way better than they would be if we were straight.”

Frank uttered a chuckle. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

“Mhm.” I didn’t reply with actual words, because I was afraid I’d mess up and have a Freudian slip regarding what I had just done in the shower or how I was kind of checking him out when he was changing.

Or that I just checked him out in general.

I don’t know why, but my attraction wasn’t only the feelings of attraction, although that was greatly prominent. I felt like a normal person when I talked to him, or looked at him. I felt like I wasn’t a complete outcast just knowing that he existed and was willing to carry out a conversation with me. You know, I started to wonder if this camp wasn’t so much a conversion camp, but a camp made to make the different kids feel less alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets sexy and steamy. Keep reading for more stuff that will make your little shipper heart go crazy, and who knows- maybe things will get even hotter ;)


	4. PEMGA- Please Excuse My Gay Ass

We were woke in the same way the next day. I sprang out of bed and ran to the door and told Frank to put a shirt on this time for the sake of both of us, as much as I really didn’t want him to. This time we weren’t interrogated by Jackass (that’s what I was gonna call him now, ever since Stella called him “brother jackass-cracker”), he just told us to get ready for a rough day and that’s it. Him saying “rough day” worried me a bit, because it made me wonder if the first day was all an act to get our hopes up, and he didn’t say “rough day” yesterday.

Or, he was just saying that in attempts to “man us up”. I don’t know why he’d think that would make us any more a male than we already were, but then again- he was utterly stupid.

For some reason I felt that it was awkwardly funny going back into the locker room again. I had a stupid smile on my face for a second and when Frank questioned it, I just said it was nothing. We had more time today than we had yesterday before we got downstairs because we were getting more used to the whole environment. For a couple minutes, Frank and I just sat in silence in the room, when he decided to pop a question.

“Gerard?” Frank started innocently. His voice was rather soft, and extremely non-forceful.

“Yeah?” I answered, looking over at him. 

He paused before he spoke, choosing his words carefully in deep thought. “What do you think…” It seemed that he was unsure of himself because his breath caught in his throat a little. “What do you think happens after this is done?”

 

I froze. I mean, I was already sitting still, but I froze. I froze mentally and it was like my heart stopped. Fuck, how could I possibly be so careless? I hadn’t even thought about that yet. No. Shit. This was bad. 

I guess Frank realized that I wasn’t going to reply anytime soon because I caught myself just staring at the floor. “I mean like, what happens when we just go back home? When we get back home and our parents are there and we’re still gay? It didn’t work for Stella. Why would it work for any of us?”

I opened my mouth to say something as if it would clear up my thoughts, but it didn’t. I just felt panicked. “I don’t know.” I managed out, rather quietly. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever spoken so quietly in my life. The thought of having to face my mother again and having to go through depression on my own was terrifying to me. I felt like I was gonna throw up again like I had when I found out I was coming to this damned place. 

Frank walked over to me and sat down next to me on the bed. “Gerard, are you okay? You don’t look too good.”

I swallowed hard. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

I shook my head which just made me feel more sick. “No. It’s okay. It’s not your…” I stopped mid-sentence because I felt a tightening in my throat. Oh god, I was gonna cry. Not now. Please. Not right now. But before I knew it, I was already looking down, tears falling gently onto my lap. My black hair obscured most of my face, and I threw my arms around Frank.

I didn’t like crying alone. It was sometimes embarrassing, but I completely hated crying alone.

His arms enveloped around me and he said nothing. He was just there to help me. I appreciated that a lot, because I hated it when someone tried to make me stop crying. Because if there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that when I cry, I can’t do anything to stop it. It was like that one part when Ponyboy is all like “I can’t help it, but I’ll stop crying soon” or something like that. 

“I don’t wanna go back. Or stay here.” I stifled, now just sobbing brokenly in the arms of a boy I met just two days ago.

That was another thing about me. I trusted a little too easily sometimes.

“It’s okay, Gerard. You’ll- you’ll be okay.” I could tell that Frank really didn’t know what to say, but I was glad he was trying.

But I knew he was wrong. I wasn’t going to be okay. Life was gonna suck. I’d go back home and probably be emotionally abused by my mother every day. Then come the day I turn eighteen I’ll move out and be too depressed to be able to get a job. And next thing you know, I’ll end up dead wherever I’m living or dead on the streets.

We broke apart and I was trying to dry my eyes with the sleeves of my oversized black sweater. “I just don’t know what to do.” That was half a lie. I did know what I could do. I could just kill myself, even if I didn’t want to die yet, because I had nowhere to go.

“You see, Gerard” Frank was once again choosing his words carefully, even more so than before. “You and I’ve got some things in common. We’re gay, for starters. We’ve both got a parent that hates us for it and sent us to this stupid-ass camp.”

I knew that. And I knew that he knew that I knew that. Where could he possibly go with this?

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that your time is not the only time this has happened to someone. So...I mean, if I can make it, so can you. And I believe I can make it. You’ve just gotta believe you can too.”

I smiled through tears, my face probably all blotchy now from crying. I was gonna have to go wash my face again. “Thank you, Frank.”

He smiled back. “No problem.”

At breakfast, Stella was going around and whispering something to everyone and their faces and reactions afterwards concerned me a lot. A couple people looked mad at her and shot expressions of disbelief. When she got to our table, I was already aware that she had something to say and turned to her.

“Guys, prepare your asses for the beginning of the end.” She slammed a fist down on the table, and that told me that shit was about to get real.

“What?” Frank queried, confused.

Stella looked around to see if anyone was watching. “Fuck, they’re gonna be onto me soon. But today is when they start doing really horrible things.” She leaned in close. “They start hurting you. First session they’re gonna electrocute you while they show you gay porn to make you think it’s harmful.”

Lindsey and Jamia looked at each other worriedly and clutched the other’s hand. “Wait, seriously? Isn’t that illegal? Isn’t that called…” Jamia looked completely horrified and couldn’t force the word off her tongue.

I spoke up. “Abuse?”

Stella seemed like it took all her willpower to nod. “Yes. And they keep doing it. But I cannot fucking stress how important it is that you don’t let them get to you. Don’t let them win. They’re evil. They are genuinely evil people. They’re trying to brainwash you. You can play the part, but it won’t do anything. They’re gonna keep hurting you.”

Frank looked like he was about to go up to the main office and shoot everyone in there. “Bullshit!” He exclaimed furiously. “I won’t do it. I’m not going. Anyone with me?”

Jamia, Lindsey and I all nodded in agreement.

Stella shook her head. “Uh, no. Not a good idea. My roommate did that last time. Tried hiding in the room, but they found her and they put her in a straight jacket. Every time she looked away from the video, they tightened it and shocked her even more. By the end of it, she could barely speak or walk.”

My jaw dropped. “Does the government know about this?”

“Yes. But they’re corrupt fuckwits. This facility pays the government extra so they don’t get-”

“Time’s up!” A counselor hollered, and everyone in the room looked over.

“Agony awaits us all.” Stella sounded like she was prophesying, in the way she was so sure of herself. “Spread the word. Good luck. Don’t let them get to you!”

The way she spoke as she walked away from us made it seem like she was saying her last words to us as she got dragged away by the enemy who wanted to put us all in purgatory and then get tortured to get her to tell them our whereabouts. Actually, that’s basically what was about to happen, except she wasn’t being dragged by anyone or asked for information about us, and she wasn’t the only one about to be tortured. It was all of us.

The room was more quiet today. Everything was more quiet today. Everyone was just dreading everything that was about to happen, because although Stella didn’t get to warn everybody, the word spread and soon enough, the message might as well have been in the news. Jackass didn’t have to yell to get us all to quiet down this time, and I’m almost sure that nothing could make us laugh at this point. The room was filled with expressions of dread, and some of anger. I didn’t sense any fear from Frank, just anger. I, on the other hand, was just scared. I didn’t take physical pain well. Actually, I didn’t take any kind of pain well.

“So today we’re going to be doing something different.” Yeah, no shit Sherlock! “Today you’re going to be in a room alone and-”

What?

WHAT?!

Nope! No. I could have sworn I was about to jump up out of my seat and leave the facility. I hated crying alone. I hated suffering alone. I really did. I hated crying alone about anything, I just hated being alone- being alone in a room, watching porn while being shocked electrically, and probably crying was like a nightmare. Like I said, it may be embarrassing to cry in front of people constantly, but the pain of suffering alone was ten times more than the embarrassment. I don’t mean I wanted someone to suffer as I was too. I just needed a shoulder to cry on.

I’d completely tuned out while Jackass was explaining because I already knew of his evil plans. I tuned out of a lot of things at this camp. It was just so tiring listening to what I knew was going to just be the firewood of ignorance. It felt like I was about to walk to a guillotine to be executed when everyone started getting up and getting in a line, a line that for our lives we couldn’t make straight. Even that thought of not being able to make a straight line as a joke didn’t get my spirits up, not even the slightest bit.

The boys and the girls were lined up on either side of the hallway and there was one room for each line. The lights were off, with just a slight glow which I’m guessing was the screen. Why did they have to turn the lights off? That scared me even more. I hated this. I hated it so fucking much and it hadn’t even happened yet. The lines reminded me of those school vaccinations. Fuck, needles. Fuck. No. Like in grade seven and eight when you had to get all those vaccinations for infections. I cried every single time.

The first people to go in were probably seen as the bravest souls in the world, even if they didn’t have a choice if they were. I saw them as saviours. The saviours of the broken, the beaten, and the damned. I imagined all of us like, bowing to them afterwards. That didn’t lift my spirits either. Nothing was working. And I hadn’t even yet thought about the fact that we had thirty more days of this shit. Thirty more days of waiting in line in dread like those school vaccinations.

About two minutes after the first guy and the first girl entered the rooms, a pained scream came from the girl’s room and not long after, the guy’s room too. Everyone turned to the people around them, exchanging frantic looks. Whispers resonated throughout the lines before we were shut up by a counselor. People didn’t even bother to keep talking at all because they were too scared. Hell, I was scared to breathe right now.

More aching yelps and screams came from the room and they just kept increasing. Soon, the girl started crying and begging for them to stop. That sent actual shivers down my spine, hearing how utterly desperate she was. Some people were clutching the hand of the person next to them and I wanted to do the same so badly, but I could barely move right now. The sheer terror had me almost immobilized. I was in a panicked state. Not frantic, but my mind was racing so much that it had gone blank. Like you know the Road Runner in Looney Toons? How it runs so fast that it’s just a blurry line? 

Anything I could possibly be thinking right now was just a blurry line.

I was washed back into reality when I saw Frank stepping in front of me. I almost missed it because he was so short.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, making sure nobody was walking by.

“You look fucking terrified. I think you’re more scared than I am.” He whispered back, turning only slightly to face me.

I felt like someone had just saved me from drowning. Or just given me both of their kidneys so I could live. Frank stepping in front of me in line was basically like him saving my life. “I owe you.”

“No you-” He started, but another scream- even more gut-wrenchingly pained than the rest- came from the room. “Yeah, you do.”

That, for some reason, made me smile the slightest bit. I mean, nobody would actually consider it a smile except for maybe me. That’s how slight it was. But it was, nevertheless, a smile, and Frank had prompted it. I did owe him a lot.

It had been fifteen minutes when they both came out of the room, but it felt more like thirty. Their eyes were the size of moons when they looked back at all of us and their expressions were inexplicably petrified. 

“D-d-don’t...p-please…” The boy pleaded as he was taken away by a counselor. His voice was so shaky that he was almost completely incoherent.

The next two people went in the room resentfully and the same process repeated. The screams of pain. It had gotten to the point where I wasn’t even focused on the fact that I would suffer this later on. I just felt so fucking bad for the two people undergoing the process right now. And like clockwork, that same expression was glued onto the faces of everyone who came out of the room and the next people walked into the rooms unwillingly.

Then it was Frank’s turn and I felt really bad that he had stepped in front of me. He looked at the floor before starting to step in, but I stopped him.

“Frank, you don’t have to-” And I was cut off by a counselor, who said that we needed to keep moving. 

They shut the door and I don’t think a door closing has ever sounded so loud deadly in my entire existence. I’d stopped comparing this to school vaccinations because I was now thinking of it as worse. If I kept thinking about it as a vaccination, I’d become too calm and I’d have things in the wrong perspective. Soon enough, I could hear Frank experiencing the same pain that everyone before him had and everyone after him will.

I bit my lip, concerned, because it hurt a lot to hear someone that I actually knew somewhat and cared about somewhat being hurt like this. Hell, someone who cared about me. He basically took the bullet just because I was scared. And might I remind you again, we met a mere two days ago. I swear- right now, I could already feel the shock on my skin hearing Frank like this.

My death day rolled around more quickly than I had expected because I was so occupied with unadulterated anxiety right after and I glanced at Frank as he walked out of the room, completely phased. His face was filled with nothing but pure horror, like the rest of us. He glanced over at me too as he was taken away and I was taken into the room. The fucking light was still off and the screen was now black. They sat me down in a chair and there were handcuffs on it. They clipped me in, and they did the same at my ankles. I already felt like throwing up, for the second time today. 

And with no warning- they started up the video and started with a small shock- a buzz that startled me. I felt it crawling on my skin even after. And then the guys in the video started touching each other more, but getting hard isn’t exactly the first thing your body does when you’re terrified out of your mind and you’re being electrocuted. As soon as their clothes were off, the shocks actually started to hurt and a small cry escaped me. 

They made the shocks more and more intense each time. I tried to keep myself from crying out, but I just couldn’t contain myself. When the guy started getting actually fucked about two minutes in, I was sure that the amount of electricity in the shock was the maximum as I let out an agonizing bawl. Little did I know it wasn’t, and it just made me start sobbing and basically scream my head off. I squeezed the arm rests of the chair as if it would transfer my pain to the inanimate object, but it just made my knuckles white and my palms hurt.

I tried thinking happy thoughts and tried closing my eyes, but they reprimanded me to keep my eyes open and when I refused, they just shocked harder. I tried thinking of Mikey and how we used to make comics and badly draw superheroes for them when we were younger, but my thoughts were shaken up and interrupted by every harrowing shock. I didn’t get used to it at all. In fact, it just hurt more and more each time. In this moment, I hoped that they’d accidentally hold it for too long and I’d just die. But that thought was also interrupted by a shock. 

After the whole ordeal was finally over and they undid the restraints, I nearly fell over trying to walk. I was still crying and I hated that it was the second time today. I was led out and down the hall to another room where the other boys were, sitting on chairs set up similarly to the room we meet at every morning, but these ones had desks. Some of them still looked disturbed from the trauma. I sat beside Frank, relieved to see him.

After going through the torture, I felt even more bad that Frank went in front of me. “Frank, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have let you go in first.” I atoned.

“It’s okay. It would have had to happen anyways.” I noticed that he looked extremely tired and lacked the awareness that he normally had. I didn’t blame him. I was tired too, and probably didn’t look any less tired than him because I cried in addition to that.

“True…” I agreed, he was right, but I still felt bad. “Fuck, how can I ever calibrate for that?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. It doesn’t really matter though, because again- it’s not like it would have stopped it from happening if you had gone first.”

“Yes, it does. It matters to me. Maybe it still would have happened, but you still did it nonetheless.” I stated candidly, touching his arm. “You cared enough.”

Frank smiled, and I smiled back. 

That room turned into a classroom, a sex ed classroom where they try to convince you that every gay person is going to get AIDS and the only solution to not getting AIDS is to be straight. Even though my brain wasn’t exactly sharp after being shocked electrically countless times, their bullshit points were still so transparent and so easy to see through.

Here. Let me give you a real lesson on how to not get AIDS.

Use a handy thing called condoms!

Don’t sleep with excessive amounts of people.

Know whether or not the person you’re sleeping with has AIDS!

They made it seem like only gay people could get AIDS, which only made me see them as more utterly stupid than I already did. Straight people get AIDS too. But of course, they didn’t care about that, because the truth is not not what’s gonna brainwash people, and that’s precisely what they tried to do. Near the end of the class after I had been grossed out enough by swollen assholes and actual pictures of people's’ shit and thought it couldn’t get worse, they made this announcement:

“Every individual in this room right now is going to get tested and we’ll see how many of you can prove us right. I’ll take a guess that at least a quarter of you have made stupid decisions acting on your mere feelings and have already been infected, but just don’t know it yet. However, we’re here to help you on your road to recovery and to lead a better lifestyle and we’re gracious enough to start you out on that. So tomorrow, you’re all going to get a blood test and your results will come in sometime later on.”

Ok. I hate lists, but

Gracious? You just fucking electrocuted us all for fifteen minutes.

FUCK NO. THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY IN THIS DAMN UNIVERSE THAT I AM LETTING YOU SHITHEAD FUCKWITS STICK A TINY PIECE OF METAL OF DEATH INTO MY SKIN AND TAKE MY BLOOD.

I turned to Frank. “I am not letting them take my blood. I am NOT allowing them to give me this blood test if it’s the LAST thing I fucking do. You know, I bet they’re all vampires. I bet they just wanna take all our blood so they can drink it. That’s what they want to do.” I concluded, crossing my legs and arms in resistance to them.

Frank looked at me kind of funny. “Gerard, it’s just a blood test. You barely feel it, it’s not that bad.”

I looked at him in disbelief and slight offense. “Oh, pfft- ‘it’s not that bad’-” I mimicked. “Frank, you have no fucking idea how scared I am of needles! Seriously! I would rather go back to being electrocuted!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well then...I mean, I take that back, in that case.”

“Damn straight.” I affirmed imperturbably, but then realized just how ironic that was.

Frank chuckled a little, and so did I. “Hey, if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s straight.”

I somehow managed to keep a bit of a smile. “I’m glad they didn’t get to you.” 

He looked me in the eye, and profoundly said “Yeah, me too.”

For almost the entirety of rest of the day, we had more boring lectures about how it’s dangerous to be gay and how it tears families apart and it hurts children. I have no idea how that was supposed to work in their minds, but it was tiring to listen to. The last session was similar to the electrocution, but it wasn’t physically painful for me- more mentally.

We were again lined up, the girls on the left and boys on the right, at the same room. At first, we were scared that they were going to hurt us again, but they said that it wasn’t going to hurt. But in my case, they were very wrong. I actually didn’t know at all what was happening until I was seated in that same cursed chair again.

An assistant handed a tube to me and pointed to a washroom in the room. A washroom? I hadn’t even noticed it earlier. Well, it’s understandable. “Put this on.”

I looked down at the tube, my eyebrows furrowed. There was no label or anything like that on it. “What’s this?”

“Viagra.” He fixed, rather nonchalantly.

What the hell? Why the fuck would they want me to do that? I glowered at him, not knowing exactly what evil was planned, but knowing it was there. “Why should I?”

“Because if you come out of that washroom and act like you didn’t, I’m gonna get one of the girls to do it for you, and more.” He avowed, stepping closer to me and leaning closer to my height.

Hold on. Had I just been threatened with rape? Fuck no. I couldn’t resist them now. I’m not gonna let that happen to myself.

I nodded and made my way to the washroom. I’d never used Viagra before, but it was really awkward, especially when I walked back out. I had my pants on, but I still felt insanely uncomfortable. I was told to sit down, so I did. I didn’t want to be threatened again. They started a video and I immediately knew what they were trying to do.

So in the morning, they showed us gay porn and harmed us. They harmed us so we could associate two men having sex with something bad, something painful. And now, they were showing us straight porn and told us to put on Viagra so that we’d be hard while watching it and associate it with being turned on, even though I really wasn’t. It made me wonder how they did the same thing for the girls, but I didn’t know enough about girls to think too much about it. They tried making your mind and body work together against you to make you someone you’re not and it was fucking cruel.

The fact that they did me made me furious with them. It made me furious in general, and frustrated. Right now, the reason why this camp existed was hitting me, and it fucking hurt. These camps existed because some people thought that there was something wrong with loving a little differently than the majority of the population. Some people thought that it was sometimes disgusting, sinful, to love another person. They hated that so much that they wanted to change it. They hated us so much that they wanted to change us. 

The world is insanely ugly, I thought.

When it was done, I was taken back to the room, and Frank and I went to the locker rooms again to shower and wash up. I felt completely drained of any sense of confidence I could possibly have. Thinking about how much the world hated me deep down inside made me hope that this whole thing would work. If they were gonna break me, so be it. Maybe it would make my life easier. It would make my mom hate me less. It would make the whole entire fucking universe hate me less. It would increase my chances of finding someone I love, because there’s more straight girls than gay guys. 

In this moment, I completely wanted to bury my head in the sand and forget about who I am and just conform.

So what if that shows I’m weak? I am. I truly am. So maybe it’s about time for me to start acting like that. Maybe it’s about time that I stopped trying to be something I’m…

...not.

Something I’m not…

I’m not straight.

Oh god.

They were getting to me.

They were trying to make me believe that I should try to be something other than me and it was already working on the second day. The fact that I’ve been doing as much as even just considering letting myself go and being who they wanted me to be said something, and it said that something in a rather melancholy tone.

I was waiting for Frank again on the bench while he dried off. I looked at him a couple times like I did yesterday and I suddenly forgot why I ever wanted to change myself, because boys were just so nice to look at. He, in particular, was just so nice to look at. He was beautiful. Why was that bad? Rather, why did people think it was bad, and think it so strongly that they almost completely scared me into thinking it as well? I could never imagine myself ever not thinking he’s beautiful. I didn’t want to.

All the ups and downs in my thoughts made me extremely tired. Immediately after putting all my things away, I went to my bed and pulled a Frank, sleeping in only my boxers. I didn’t feel like changing into a different shirt, I just wanted to sleep. The day was long and hard, I just wanted to sleep, and the only things that I didn’t mind being long and hard are dicks.

Wow, I thought to myself.

I am really gay.

You know, some straight people who support gay people say PEMSA, which stands for “please excuse my straight ass”, but for me it would really be PEMGA- please excuse my gay ass…

...which I would really like to be fucked in.

Frank noticed I’d totally copied him with the no shirt thing and hell, I was totally flustered about it. “So you’re trying to no shirt thing?”

I grinned stupidly, sitting up under the covers. “Heh, yeah. I’m too tired to put on another shirt anyway.”

He was about to go up the ladder, but stopped for a second. “Yeah? Like what you see?” He teased, smirking a little.

That made me grow uncontrollably red and giggle like an idiot. I didn’t even reply, I just took a second to gaze at him so he could read my mind, which said “hell yes”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is pretty up and down. Like my life. Hahahaha...comedy. Well, I hope you enjoyed it. I really appreciate all the kudos and feedback I've been getting lately, so if you liked it then leave a kudos and comment! And if you liked it a lot, then you can bookmark it and read the next chapter to find out what happens next! It'll be as good as this chapter. I promise. Read it.


	5. Gerard Way the non-innocent bottom

The next morning, we had shock therapy again. It didn’t get any easier, any less painful. In fact, it was more painful- mentally and emotionally. Ever since last night when I thought about the reason why they do this, I didn’t feel like myself at all. I felt somewhat sick and dizzy with every step I took, as if I’d just fall over off of the face of this planet and die, and have no one cry over me. You see, I didn’t yet see myself as worthless. I knew I still meant something, but all my anxieties came from not meaning something.

Today they also made all the girls wear dresses. Some of them didn’t mind it, some of them liked it, and some of them looked like they were just about going to die. Jamia and Lindsey didn’t really care, Lindsey often wore plaid skirts anyway. Girls like Stella on the other hand, girls who liked expressing themselves in a more typically masculine way, looked completely dead inside. The thing is, a lot of homophobes seem to think that every lesbian wants to be like a guy and every gay guy wants to be like a girl. 

It’s almost like when someone asks the retarded question of “Who’s the guy in the relationship?”

Like no. They’re LESBIANS. Women who like women. Or, they’re BOTH guys. Men who like men.

It’s annoying, really. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the fact that some gay men do present themselves more as female and that some lesbians do present themselves more as male, but too many people just can’t see past stereotypes, the pre-set idea that society has oh so kindly built for us. 

Other than being electrocuted today and having to do the whole thing with Viagra again, they started trying to convert us into Christians. They showed us scriptures that said that God doesn’t like homosexuals and that if we stay homosexuals, we’re going to hell. I knew the whole spiel. My mom took my brother and I to church, and it wasn’t any less tiring today as it had been then. But something I noticed today was that it started getting less annoying and more hurtful. I didn’t believe in hell, or heaven for that matter, but the fact that some people wanted nearly everyone in this room to suffer eternally cut deep.

But hey- if I’m going to hell, there will be so many other gay guys there that it’ll be a great place to find a boyfriend.

They were trying to make us hate ourselves for being gay. They were trying to make us want to change and I felt extremely vulnerable because I had been thinking about that. I still couldn’t believe I had the nerve, but I was upset with myself for letting that happen at all, and knowing that these stupid people had a part to play in that. We even had this worksheet where we had to answer questions about why it was “wrong” to be gay. Frank completely refused to answer any of them, so they took him out of the room and after he came back, he had that same phased look that he did when he got out of them shock room. I guessed that they had tortured him until he agreed to fill out the sheet, because he did.

I didn’t catch what he wrote, but I wrote the most passive aggressive, blunt, and sassy shit. When they asked “Why must we fight off homosexual urges?”, I answered “Because God’s watching and God gets angry and will harm some people when they are in love, but God is just so loving that he doesn’t want to do that so he would rather them change”. I didn’t lie, that’s essentially what they were teaching us. God apparently didn’t like it if people of the same sex loved each other and he wanted to make them suffer for it, and that it was loving when God wanted them to change.

Nothing was getting any easier at this camp, that’s for sure. I guess in a sense we were getting used to it, but that didn’t make the time go quicker. That made it go slower, because us getting used to it meant that the same cycle was repeating over and over again. 

At the very end of the day, all the boys were called back to the room. At first I was confused, but then when I realized why I was just petrified.

“Wait, why are they calling us down?” I asked Frank as we were walking down to the room.

He pursed his lips and looked at me like he didn’t want to tell me. “You forgot?”

I forgot? I guess I forgot. But what did I forget? What was I supposed to remember? What was there to remember in the first place?

I stopped walking, trying to recall everything that happened yesterday. All the information I had been fed. And that was when my knees got weak and I felt like I was gonna faint.

“Oh, hell no! Nope! I am not doing this!” I crossed my arms, planted firmly in my spot. “I am NOT letting them take one fucking drop of my blood and put a fucking piece of metal in my fucking vein!”

Frank sighed heavily. “Gerard, you have to. I didn’t want to answer questions on a stupid little worksheet and they shocked me again.”

So I was right. I had trouble deciding for a moment which one I hated more. I didn’t really know, they were both pretty bad. So bad that I’d probably have a fear of like, wall sockets by the end of this. “Ugh…” I murmured in disgust. “I don’t wanna do this.”

Frank took my arm, urging me forward. “Come on, Gee. You’ll live.”

I shot a look of, not confusion, but almost that. “Did you just call me ‘Gee?’”

“Yeah, sorry. Do you not want me to?”

“No, no, I just wasn’t expecting it.” I answered. If I weren’t insanely nervous right now, I’d probably be freaking out at the use of a nickname.

We didn’t say anything for about ten seconds, and I was trying to forget what we were supposed to do soon, but Frank didn’t let it slip. “Now come along, you don’t want the both of us to be in trouble, now do you?” He pulled me along, and I regrettably followed.

I probably would have been freaking out over being almost dominated by him like that if I wasn’t about to puke. It was almost like a forceful encouragement, which could be platonic or sexual in my opinion. In that moment I thought of it as platonic, but if I knew myself at all, it wouldn’t be so in my head later on. He was being like a dad friend, taking care of me like this, trying to reassure me before the evil people poked metal in me and took my blood. More like a daddy friend, my subconscious said, that fucker.

And outside the room- we weren’t directed to go in it, no siree- we were lined up. This was officially school vaccinations. It was bad enough when we were about to be electrocuted, I did not need this shit, none of us needed this shit! When I saw the line, I hesitated to move forward. This time, the line was going too damn fast because they were taking about four people in the room at once. Fuck school vaccinations, this was at least fifty times worse. On top of me watching my blood get slowly drawn from my body, they were gonna try and convince me I had AIDS because somehow my healthy blood was proof I had been fucked by a guy and got AIDS from him.

I’m.

A.

Virgin.

When it boiled down to my time to get murdered, I reluctantly sat down in the chair beside the nurse. Frank was at the station beside me. She asked me how I was doing today and I said I was doing awful, and I guess that wasn’t what she was expecting so she just ignored it and started drenching a cotton ball with alcohol. She asked me to put my arm on the armrest, and the only thing that motivated me to do so was the fact that if I refused to get the blood test, I’d probably get electrocuted again. I almost couldn’t believe that I found something more scary than needles. She unpackaged the needle and poked at the inside of my elbow a little where a vein was. The coolness of the metal tip just poking at my skin, not even in yet, made me cringe like crazy and I was suddenly feeling lightheaded. I couldn’t even watch.

“This one is good. Now I’m just going to put the needle in and it’ll last only about thirty seconds, okay?” She tried sounding soft and like I had nothing to worry about, but I completely begged to differ.

I made the mistake of looking over as the needle silently was lodged into my skin, and I gasped, my eyes widening. I shut them tightly and clenched my jaw, just wanting this to be over. The suction of the needle siphoning the blood in my arm made it feel like my arm was being vacuum sealed, or at least, that’s what it felt like in my head. I opened my eyes and tried diverting my attention to Frank, who looked way too fucking calm! I shut my eyes again when I saw the blood in the needle, even if it wasn’t my own. I just begged that this would be over soon. I wasn’t even begging anything in particular. I just pleaded to nothing. I silently cursed the needle for being a thirsty hoe and wanting to drink in my blood, as if it were a desperate person.

“All done.” The nurse said, pressing a cotton pad to the spot and putting a bandaid over it.

I hadn’t realized it, but I had been holding my breath. I let out a sigh of relief and left the room eagerly, still feeling like I was gonna faint. Frank walked alongside me and laughed.

“Dude, you’re so pale right now, you should see yourself.” He goaded jokingly.

I gave him a petty smile and nothing else, my lack of impressment making him laugh even more.

“Ah, drama queen Gee.” He finished, fading out of laugher.

I crossed my arms and looked sarcastically offended. “I am not!” I protested. “Besides, how would you even know? You only met me like, four days ago.”

“I just know. You’re really animated, I know that much, and sometimes sassy.” He jested. I mean, he was right- I was a bit of a drama queen, but I decided I’d play along and keep pretending to be sarcastically offended.

“Me? Sassy? Bitch, I don’t think so.” I shot back, in the most sassy, most stereotypically gay voice that I had the mental strength and emotional capacity to do.

Frank started laughing again and I had to keep myself from doing the same. I liked hearing him laugh. But eventually, I gave in with a small giggle.

“Whatever you say. It’s cute though, just saying.” He added, before unlocking the door to our room.

My jaw was dropped ever so slightly and I looked at him in disbelief as he started getting his stuff for washing up. Did Frank really think that I was cute? Well then, I may be better at flirting and making an impression than I thought. Hey, we may have met only days ago- but I was allowed to flirt and hope it’ll be at least a small success. And you see, it’s only now that every day I see other guys who like guys, so my opportunity to flirt and kind of hit it off was ample. Maybe right now it wasn’t serious or deep- but I wouldn’t be surprised if I actually seriously started crushing. 

The same thing happened tonight with our routine- we went to the locker room, showered, and I waited on the bench for Frank to finish. Finish getting dressed. Not like, to finish as in like, to orgasm. God, fuck my dirty mind sometimes. And my sneakingly dirty subconscious. I mean, come on- “daddy friend”. I don’t even have a daddy kink!

My subconscious found it very funny that my first defense was that I don’t have a daddy kink as opposed to the fact that it was Frank that I silently called “daddy”.

I think we were both getting more comfortable with each other because tonight, we actually talked. Well, we are technically living together, even if it is temporarily.

When I sat down on my bed, slumping against the wall, Frank sat on the edge of my bed. “So, you’re a weird one.” Frank addressed, opening up a conversation.

“I am?” I giggled. “How so?”

“Well I mean, I’ve never seen anyone get so scared over a little blood test, for starters.”

“Oh my god!” I deflected, and Frank just started laughing at me again. “You’re not gonna let me hear the end of this, are you?” I tried biting my bottom lip to keep myself from smiling like an idiot, but it didn’t work.

He moved back so that he was next to me. “Nope.” He confided, smirking.

I slapped him on the arm, but not hard enough for it to actually hurt though. “Asshole.”

“Drama queen.” He retorted.

I didn’t even reply, I just tried not to smile and flipped him off, shaking my head. Of course, trying not to smile wasn’t working the slightest bit.

“Hm, such obscenity for such an innocent bottom.” Frank clicked his tongue and shook his head.

I snorted. Innocent? Me? Never. Never ever. “I am not as innocent as you think I am.”

“I know. How innocent can you be with the whole top bunk or bottom bunk situation? Not very, I just wanted to annoy you.” He stated smugly.

“Oh, so you like teasing people, don’t you?” Yes, I realized that that sounded kinky. No, I did not care.

“Yes, I do.” He admitted, still looking smug as fuck.

I didn’t reply again, I just looked at him like I was unimpressed, but I knew that I didn’t actually look unimpressed, because I was rather engaged by him. He decided the break the pause.

“You denied being innocent, correct?” He coaxed.

I nodded. “Correct.”

“But, you never denied being a bottom?” He coaxed again.

I didn’t even look at him. I looked up and laughed, slightly embarrassed. Because I wasn’t gonna deny it, no. It just made me insanely red that he, of all people, pointed that out. He looked at me though, waiting for a response, but I was laughing too much and could barely speak so I just nodded.

“I knew it.” He confirmed, so sure of himself.

“Why are we even talking about this?” I wondered, getting over my laughter, but still red.

“You said it, I like teasing people.” He repeated.

I pulled my hair out of my face because again- if I was gonna flirt, I was gonna look fucking pretty while doing it. “Well, it’s not annoying. I like making fun of myself.”

“That’s good. Maybe you’re not as much of a drama queen as I thought you were.” Frank smiled, actually seeming genuinely interested in keeping up a conversation. “But you’re still sassy as fuck.”

“Hey, my sass, your wit- we could make every counselor in this building fucking cry.” I wasn’t actually plotting to do so, but the thought of it was funny.

Frank chuckled a bit. “Ha, yeah. They deserve it.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it actually hurts that these camps exist.” I sighed.

“Yep...I’m still wondering if things get better from here, you know?”

I looked down, somewhat saddened. “I have trouble thinking they will. For me, at least. I’ve got a lot to decide on when I get home.” 

“Like what?” He prompted, probably completely oblivious.

“Just stuff.” Just stuff, like deciding whether I live or die. 

He looked at me and tilted his head a little. “Like how you’re gonna live your life?”

For some reason, I decided to fuck it all- just fuck hiding everything. It probably wouldn’t even matter. “More like if I live or not.” I implied, somewhat bitterly. I shook it off with a dead laugh, because I just didn’t know what else to do.

Frank looked legitimately concerned. “Seriously?”

I nodded, a sad smile on my face. “Yeah. You know, I already tried the night before I came here. That’s why…” I rolled up my sleeve to expose my arm, which was still bandaged. “Yeah.”

Frank bit his lip and looked me straight in the eye. The eye contact made me want to cry, so I took my arm back to me and looked back down. “I’m so sorry, Gee.” He put a hand on mine and the closeness made me want to cry even more.

I tried to keep smiling, when really I just wanted to cry in his arms again. It felt good to hug him the other day as I cried. I felt secure. “It’s okay. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. It was a fucking stupid thing to do, and I think it’s really stupid that I’m even considering doing it again, and I don’t even want to die.”

“Then why would you kill yourself?” He put forward, his voice gentle.

I shrugged, when really I knew exactly why. “Because I know that my life would be miserable. My mom would make it hell, because I can’t change. I want to live, but I want to be happy, which I just don’t think is possible. It’s not really living if you feel like you’re dead inside, you know?”

He sighed. “It’s definitely not easy, y’know, especially in our situation. But people make it. And I bet they’re glad they tried.”

I smiled a real smile this time. It may have been hard to believe, but whenever he said stuff like that, it made me just a little more hopeful. “Thanks, Frankie. Can I call you that?”

He smiled back. “Sure” He started. “Just like yesterday- if I can make it, so can you.”

Both of us took a moment in silence, I guess to chew on what we’d just talked about. I couldn’t believe I had just told him about everything I’d been thinking, without crying for that matter. 

“So I guess we’ve broken the normal-name ice and moved onto nicknames.” Frank lightened up the topic.

“Yeah, I guess.” I giggled, feeling like a heavy weight had been lifted off of me.

“So I know you loathe needles, you seem flushed whenever you’re called Gee, and I know that you are most definitely and unadulterated bottom.” Unadulterated bottom...exhibit A of Frank Iero’s wit, abbreviating in a powerful two words.

I grinned embarrassedly at that last one. “Yes, that’s right.”

“But I don’t even know how old you are. You look like you could be my age or older, but sometimes you act like you’re twelve.” Frank joked.

“I’m seventeen!” I laughed. “But like...you act twelve sometimes too!”

“Oh yeah? When?” He rejoined, challenging me.

“I dunno, like…” I shrugged, feeling myself blush again. “...like sometimes!”

Frank didn’t even argue, he just laughed. And for the rest of the night, we couldn’t shut up about anything. I found out stories from Frank’s childhood, stupid things he’s done, how his birthday was on Halloween, and how his dad flipped out when he came home with tattoos one day. From what I could tell, Frank was very much a free spirit, but did dumb stuff like trying to skateboard into lakes. He didn’t let anyone tell him how to live his life, and I wished that I could do the same. Despite this free-roaming quality, he was actually pretty sensitive. I mean, I could already tell to how considerate he was that day I cried.

I thought that maybe I would have something to live for after this camp, because tonight looked like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needles...ew. I myself wouldn't say I have a phobia of needles, surely not as big as Gerard's phobia, but it is rather unsettling to think about your blood being taken through a microscopically small metal tube engulfed in layers of your skin and fat. Feeding off of you. Every time I go to get a blood test I listen to Blood and it makes me feel a little better.
> 
> But hey- Gee and Frank get to know each other a little more. Hmm, I wonder what that could lead to? *cue underage archive warning and relationship category*
> 
> Y'all already have ideas and that's why you decided to read it. I hope this feeds some of your sick-fuck minds. I'm not gonna lie, I'm not any better. One of my new year's resolutions was to memorize the milk fic. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm still getting so much feedback on this and I appreciate every bit of it! Your kudos, bookmarks, and comments make me like, scream internally honestly. I'm really glad to know that people actually like my fanfiction and don't see it as too cringey lmao. Well, I hope you liked this chapter, and there's many more to come, so keep up with the story!


	6. “You two have NICKNAMES for each other?!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This ain't a summary, but I just thought I'd mention it because my chapter notes are at the end. In this chapter the "legal age (of consent)" is mentioned and Gerard being past the legal age. So you know, the setting is in New Jersey, and the legal age of consent there is 16. So for my fellow Canadians and people who live in places where the age is 18 or something older than 17, I just thought I'd clear that up. Anyways, enjoy the read. This chapter is funny as fuck, in my opinion.

Frank and I had talked until about 3:00 AM and even so, we didn’t fall asleep for another hour because he kept asking me if I was asleep or not and then he’d ask again and I’d be jokingly irritated again. You see, there’s two types of annoying: the kind of annoying where the person is just so bothersome you actually want to blow the person’s brains and the kind of annoying that you just can’t get enough of, the kind that’s not bothersome, but more playful and conversational and sometimes slightly embarrassing, but that’s the fun of it. Frank was annoying, the second kind of annoying. 

I just wanted to talk to him all day. I wished we had met somewhere else, not at this stupid camp, so that we actually had more time to talk to each other and have meaningful conversations. And here I am, yet again, sounding like a twelve year old with a crush when in fact I am a seventeen year old with whatever the hell this is. An interest? I guess so. I already had a pretty good idea of what his personality was like from the conversations I’d had with him, but all that was really needed now for a friendship was more trust.

At lunch, a rather interesting conversation took place. Lindsey, Jamia, and Stella sat with Frank and me today. Stella was planning out what she was gonna say to this girl that she’s been too scared to talk to, Jamia was intent on finishing all three of her, Stella’s, and Lindey’s juice boxes, and Lindsey mentioned the porn she was watching during the electrocution, and I suddenly felt like a kid in fifth grade health class.

“Man, I just wanted to watch some good old fashioned scissoring, then they go and fucking shock me! Like, that video was hot as fuck, but I couldn’t pay attention because some fuckwad was electrocuting me.” Lindsey ranted, throwing her hands up in the air. “Like damn, that girl had some nice titties, but-”

She was cut off by Jamia slapping her wrist a little. She apologized, “Those were nice titties, but yours are nicer.” Lindsey got a smile of approval from Jamia, who continued drinking out of her second juice box.

Frank was pretty quiet for the conversation today, but decided to break that record and say something that could be both a conversation stopper or starter at the same time. “I don’t mean to pry, but like...how does that like, work? I’ve only like, heard OF the term ‘scissoring’, I don’t actually know what it is.”

And in this case, it was very much a starter.

Lindsey stifled a giggle, and Jamia laughed nervously. Stella broke her gaze at that one girl and sat down, hands folded in front of her, lips pursed like she was about to give “the talk”. Well, she was.

“You see, Frank, Gerard...” Stella started. A smirk crawled onto her face, but she dismissed it because y’know, comedy. You can’t laugh too much at your own jokes. Even though this wasn’t a joke. I think, at least. 

After a bit of staring between the two of us, she totally broke. “Ah, fuck it. I was gonna try to explain this in an educational way but that ain’t my shit.” Stella shook her head, laughing a bit. 

“So pretend this hand is a pussy and pretend this one is another one.” She held up two hands, and then after she had everyone’s full attention she started rubbing them together furiously and clapping in the strangest and quietest way possible and started alternating between the two. I don’t even know how to describe it.

Jamia was about to snort the apple juice she drank and Lindsey was dying of laughter and slamming the table. Frank tried not to laugh, but didn’t succeed because Lindsey’s laughter was contagious. And me? I fully understood her vivid explanation, but I think I had a confused expression on my face, and I eventually started laughing too because it was hard not to when nearly everyone else was.

“Is that really what happens?” I asked Stella, who seemed to be the most composed out of everyone, looking way too proud of herself.

“Basically, yeah. It’s kinda weird but hot.” She chuckled, smirking smugly.

“I wasn’t expecting that, but uh, yeah. Makes enough sense.” Frank said, calming down from laughter.

Everyone had calmed down at this point, but I well knew it wasn’t the end of it when Lindsey asked “So what about you guys? You basically like, lube up to make it the least painful as you can and get a dick in your ass, right?”

I didn’t even want to look at Frank right now because then we’d just get so uncomfortable and die laughing. I’m pretty sure I was red as a fire engine right now anyways. Neither of us wanted to start explaining, and I don’t think either of us could get away with explaining it like Stella had.

Frank decided to be the saviour of the broken, the beaten, and the damned and started up. “Uh, something like that. But I mean, I don’t think all of it is painful, because there’s like, a…” He looked over to me for help, and I made the mistake of looking back because I just started giggling like crazy. The smile of “help me because I’m gonna fucking die laughing” on his face completely got to me.

“Gee, you probably know more about like, y’know, that type, because you, uh...yeah.” He passed over this odd task to me, crossing his arms protectively and biting his thumb nail to keep from laughing.

I rolled my eyes, giggling again, because I knew exactly what he was thinking. I guess he figured I’d know more about it because I’m a bottom, but really I don’t think I know that much more. “Frankie, I’m a virgin.” I joked, brushing off the fact that I knew what he was gonna say. I just wanted to see his reaction to this. I wasn’t joking that I was a virgin, though.

“What? No, no! I wasn’t gonna say that!” He defended, actually looking sorry. I felt kinda bad because I’m pretty sure he thought that I thought he was gonna say something suggesting that I’ve got low standards or something. “I was gonna say something else, but I dunno if you like, want everyone to know.”

“I know, I know, I’m just teasing. And come on, isn’t it obvious enough already?” I’d gotten so caught up in this odd interaction with Frank that I’d totally forgot about what had started it in the first place.

The three girls looked at us both, grinning from ear to ear, having this conversation. A question came from each of them.

“You’re past the legal age and you’re a virgin?”

“So it’s not painful?”

And last, said with much ecstasy from Lindsey;

“You two have NICKNAMES for each other?!” 

Frank and I exchanged looks, somewhat embarrassedly, trying to convince ourselves that we were unsure of why Lindsey was so excited. But we both knew exactly why and we both knew we wouldn’t hear the end of it.

So since I knew there was no getting around this, I replied with a simple “Yes.”

The girls looked at each other, simpering coyly at each other. Brace for impact, I thought to myself.

“That’s so cute! Are you guys like, a thing?” Jamia gushed.

“What? No, I would never!”

“No, not at all! You’re joking right?

“Yeah, I think they’re joking.”

I think we got a little too defensive. There’s a part in Hamlet that’s like “the lady doth protest too much”, which refers to when people say something so much that it becomes insincere and is often a sign of lying. We weren’t lying- we weren’t actually a thing- but it definitely looked like we were, especially now.

“But you share a room!” Jamia objected, a little too loudly and a couple heads turned.

“So? You and Lindsey share a room.” Frank tried countering, but that wasn’t the best example.

“Bad example...” I facepalmed, really just to keep them all from seeing my rouged face, because there was no way nothing would come out of this.

“She’s my girlfriend, Frank.”

“Ok, what about Stella?”

“I’m alone.”

“What about the rest of the people in this goddamn camp?!”

“They don’t have nicknames for each other!”

“Ugh!” Frank groaned, also facepalming. 

I’m not gonna lie- it was cute seeing him all frustrated like this- but of course I wouldn’t let the girls know that. So I just manifested it in an embarrassed laugh as I tried to not look at him too dreamily, because I knew if I looked at the girls they’d probably make kissy faces at the two of us and I’d start laughing uncontrollably.

“Guys- we need a ship name.” Stella plotted, stressing every word and leaning in closer to them as if it were some top secret stuff.

Haha- “top”. 

“Fuck yeah we do!” Lindsey hollered, banging her fist on the table, catching a couple seething looks from supervisors.

“You guys...I just…” Frank had two fingers pressed against his temple, giving up any defences.

“Should we do their first names or their nicknames?” Jamia queried, getting just as into this as Stella and Lindsey.

“First names. Gerard’s nickname’s too short, and Frank’s is too close to his first name.” Lindsey stated, the three of them completely disregarding Frank and I silently dying inside.

“Ok- now we need to establish...who tops, who bottoms?” Stella disclosed, and both Frank and I shot up.

“Stella, no!” We shouted in unison.

“Stella, YES!” She grinned widely. 

“So tell us, before we say anything embarrassing- who tops, who bottoms?” Jamia interrogated, crossing her arms and inspecting us both.

This was by far the weirdest fucking thing that has happened at this camp, and probably ever will.

Frank and I stayed silently, only exchanging a look. We both got the memo to just not say anything and let this roll past us.

“Hmph…doesn’t look like they’re gonna talk.” Lindsey pursed her lips and shook her head disappointedly.

Stella shrugged, crossing her arms. “Whatever. I think Frank tops.”

Okay, maybe she was right. But I was doing such a good job at showing no emotions, I couldn’t gi-

“No way! Gerard tops.” Lindsey argued, and I laughter seemed to spill out of me like people out of a burning building.

Frank was laughing a bit himself, but not as much as I was, because sure, he knew I was a bottom- but he didn’t know just how much of a bottom I was. I was such a bottom

“Are you saying that just because he’s taller than Frank? Lindsey, do you see how short Stella is and how tall Leya is?” Jamia interjected.

Lindsey stopped and thought for a second, looking at Frank, then looking at me. “I see. Yeah, I agree. Frank tops all the way.” 

“Okay. I have a name.” Stella announced.

Lindsey and Jamia looked at her eagerly.

“Frerard.”

The girls squealed like crazy and Frank and I were totally dead inside at this point I think. It was gonna be so awkward to talk to him later on, because who knows what the girls would do with this new concept they had created. I don’t think I wanted to know. I was really curious to know what Frank thought of all this, but I was worried that me asking or discussing this would make it seem like I was actually into him in that way. 

I may not have been like, in love with him, but I wouldn’t deny attraction. So far personality and looks. A badass guy who’s passionate about things and won’t take shit from anyone. After the day was over, hobbies came up. Frank told me he played guitar and he’d always wanted to be in a band, which was extremely attractive to me because music had always been a secret passion of mine.

Did you know that guitar is considered the world’s sexiest instrument?

And snap crackle pop motherfucker, looks like we’ve got the same taste in music. Whoops. We kinda geeked out about bands and it was very much a teenager thing to do. He’s probably the biggest Misfits fanboy I’ve ever met, and we still kept talking about music even as I was waiting for him on the bench like I have every night.

(Also, I’d jerked off in the shower again, and imagined “Dig Up Her Bones” by Misfits playing in the background. It’s not weird, okay?)

“So how long have you like, been into music and stuff like that? When did you start?” I canvassed, fascinated.

“Well, my dad and grandpa were musicians, so it was always kinda there. My dad wanted me to play the drums, but I’m like nah, I’d rather do guitar.” Frank explained casually.

“Heh, I tried guitar a couple times. My brother plays bass and he has a guitar too and I kinda suck at both. I’m more of a singer, honestly.” I reckoned as we started heading out the door.

Frank stopped in his tracks. “Seriously? That’s awesome. You know, if we ever see each other after this again, all three of us should like, jam or something. We just need a drummer”

I smiled. “Yeah, that’d be great.” I’d felt like he’d just asked me out on a date or something. Well, he kind of did. Asking another musician to do music with you is like a hookup. At least, it was right now, in my head. “Actually, I know a guy who plays drums. His name’s Otter, he’s been a friend of my brother and me for a while. There’s also this other guy who Otter knows, his name is Ray, I think. He also plays guitar”

“Perfect. It’s a date.” He confirmed, smiling back.

Wow.

WoW.

I giggled a little, smiling still, because it was like he read my mind. The thought of Frank being psychic made me more careful with what I thought of- god, what if he was psychic and he’d read my mind and knew I’d jerked off to thoughts about him? Oh shit, better stop now. Fuck, it’s too late. He knows. The Feds are coming now and they’re gonna use him against me.

After a bit of silence because I had been entertaining myself with the joke of Frank being psychic, he decided to start it up again. “You know, your talking voice is already nice. I bet you’re really good at singing.” Frank chatted up. 

“I’d love to hear you sometime.” He added, and I fucking swear, he said it in the most flirty fucking way ever and I started playing with my hair like I had on the bus, twirling it awkwardly.

“Well, maybe you will.” I mused in the most flirtatious way I could. 

You know, I wasn’t even going to try holding back anymore. I thought that the whole shipping thing that the girls made up would be the end of me flirting with Frank, but really, it was more like the beginning. 

Mikey will not hear the end of this. If I’m not talking to Frank all night, I’ll be texting him about Frank and my plans.

And there Frank was again tonight- shirtless as usual, gorgeous as usual. I didn’t try not to look this time, I more just checked him out from the side. I just drank in the sight from his shaggy black hair and down, spending extra time looking at his lips. I’d always wondered what it would be like to kiss someone with a lip piercing. The coolness of the metal. An extra place to bite. I may not have been into him (yet), but I really wanted to kiss him.

I’d love to leave hickeys all over his chest, moving down, slipping the waistband of his boxers down and taking all of him into my mouth, gasping for air coming off, but keeping a hand going so he stays stimulated. To warm him up before he thrust into me and I had some hickeys of my own. But first, I’d have to be prepared too, having two or three of his talented guitarist fingers inside of me even if I just wanted to get straight to being fucked. But like I said- I like to be teased.

I blinked a couple times to take myself out of my fantasy. For a second, the real fear of Frank being psychic washed over me and for a second, I thought I wouldn’t mind if he was. I’ve never been into the loveless sex thing, but whenever I fantasized I imagined that we actually were in love. That we went hand in hand with each other and we were real life star crossed lovers, that we trusted the other person and were fully dedicated.

That would be really nice. Maybe it would give me a reason to live. Maybe then I wouldn’t need a reason to live because I’d feel okay. 

And for the first time in my life, I actually felt that desire to have a relationship with someone.

I guess I was a late bloomer in that way.

But boy- I almost couldn’t sleep, because I had a major case of butterflies...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was shorter than the others, but hey- there was quite a bit of dialogue. Also, sorry this was late, I've been busy af and have had no ideas. 
> 
> Yo, thanks for reading. And again- fuhk, I'm just gonna keep saying this every chapter, but thank you so much for all the positive feedback! I'm really glad that people like this story and the writing quality sounds good to other people, because tbh- Gee bottoms. I mean, I think it maybe could go either way, but I still firmly think Gee bottoms. The only fic that I ever read where Frank was more sub and actually liked a lot was ASOTM (cries). But it's been interesting for me writing in the POV of a bottom because, well- I'm not lmao. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you liked this chapter, stay tuned for the next one folks. I bet it'll be as good as this one. So read away, fuckers.


	7. Everything that makes you cry

The weekend meant almost nothing.

Away from camp, the weekend was an escape from reality. Mikey and I usually went out and hung out downtown, sometimes we met up with Ray and Otter. But the first weekend at this camp was exactly the same as the weekdays. You know, with these camps, I always thought there was a set process- like, they first worked on making you want to change then after that they did all the abusive shit, STD talk, and religious talk. But I guess the fact that this camp just delved straight into the abusive shit, STD talk, and religious talk showed how they knew virtually nothing about how things worked.

They were extremely disorganized this way. I’m not gonna lie, I was pretty disorganized myself- but in a physical sense. Like, having pencil crayons sprawled all over my desk and papers on the floor and just about everywhere, and not bothering to put my clothes away. By the end of every week, there was just a pile of cologne-scented black fabric around my bed that would just keep getting bigger and bigger until I did laundry on the weekend.

The only thing that made the weekend mean almost nothing as opposed to completely nothing was geeking out with Frank about music. I don’t think I’ve ever liked music more in my entire life upon talking to him about it. One time when I was little I played Peter Pan in a school musical and I guess that's what made me start liking music at all. It makes me cringe a little looking back at it because I wore these tight green pants that I still have buried somewhere in a box in my closet, but I'm not one of those teenagers that will start to murder if my childhood is talked about at all.

Frank said one of his dreams was to be in a band. All he wanted to do was music. It was basically his life. I've always liked comics and art and stuff so for a long time I just wanted to do that, but now I'd started channeling my musical side. How cool would it be to be part of a band? I'd started wondering why Mikey, Ray, Otter, and I hadn't tried actually doing something yet. We had tried having gigs before and we sounded alright, not bad, but not amazing. We seemed to be missing something, but maybe Frank was any good and his raw passion would be the key. I know it sounds like a long shot, I didn't even know for sure if he was any good- but that didn't mean I wasn't allowed to have ideas. Maybe I couldn't have a band at the moment, but I could have an idea.

On Sunday, the girls were trying to tease Frank and I more by having a very in depth conversation about blowjobs, like, describing it and everything. It was the last thing you'd ever expect from a bunch of lesbians. I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty hot, it was like how they described it in erotica literature. I probably would have been unbearably hard if I wasn't laughing so much. Ever since I started talking to Frank, I'd picked up the habit of nervous laughter. It's not like we'd known each other for years- I just paid so much attention to Frank in conversation that I guess it rubbed off on me. It reminded me of this thing I heard about people developing similar physical features to their lovers or friends after spending a lot years together.

I wonder if someone's like, dick could get bigger. Not that size actually matters though…it's how you use it.

I think my mind also got dirtier, if that was possible. Poor Mikey when I get back…

On another note, Frank started stepping in front of me again in line in the morning. We'd already talked about it previously, establishing that it wouldn't make a difference, but he did it anyway. He said to think of it as a friendly favour. It was really nice of him, even if it would happen either way, because it at least showed he cared. And that thought of him caring about me made me extremely happy for some reason, and it made me care more about him too. Sure, maybe it had only been a week, but again- we were basically living together, and we'd pulled now multiple all nighters just talking.

Near middle of the second week, I'd realized I hadn't texted Mikey for a while. So that Thursday night, I brought my phone with me to the locker rooms so I could talk to him while I waited for Frank. I wondered why he took longer than other people in the shower…I had some sexual ideas of why, but I tried not to think about it too much because I couldn't jerk off in the room.

'hey g how is everything? r they being bad 2 u? do i have 2 kill?'

'how is it with that cute roommate of yrs ;)'

'Things r weird they started electrocuting us and for some fucked up reason it's legal' I replied, ready to rant, but cooled myself down because I didn’t want to stress Mikey out too much.

'I'll explain when I'm back'

Instantly, Mikey started typing and I think it's the fastest he's ever replied to me.

'WHAT THE FUCK YR JOKING RIGHT'

'No, I'm not'

'does it hurt a lot?'

'Yeah they do it every morning. U watch gay porn while they're doing it 2.'

'thats messed up. i feel bad yr there. i miss u so much g :('

I frowned a little, getting a sinking feeling in my gut. I missed him a lot too. It hadn't even been two full weeks and I now wanted to cry because I missed him so much. It wasn't even half done.

'I miss u 2 Mikes. Don't worry tho. I'll b back in a few weeks.'

He started typing, but stopped, and didn't reply for a while, so I decided to lighten the subject a little.

'Well anyways not everything is bad here. I made friends. Frank plays guitar and wants to meet u, Otter, and Ray when this is over.'

'dude thats awesome. who knows maybe ull come back from camp with a bf ;)'

I couldn't help but smile because it seemed like I was being teased by everyone I ever interacted with about Frank.

'He's not my bf Mikeyyy'

'i never said he was'

'u like him dont u bc that wouldnt have been on yr mind if u didnt'

I guess I kinda sorta maybe did. A little bit. But I'm not gonna determine that yet, because it's been barely two weeks. It was more just like, a stupid little crush that really meant nothing real. I crushed fairly easily, but I didn't love easily.

'K ngl I kinda do but it’s stupid. Maybe if I knew him longer.'

And here Mikey was again with his lightning-bolt replies.

'YES I FINALLY HAVE SOMETHING VALID TO BOTHER U ABOUT'

'IT'S NOT FUCKING VALID YET MIKEY'

It was like I could hear Mikey gushing through his vigorous typing. Whenever someone types in all capital letters I never read it just as a normal word in my head. Who does? It's like a small yell in your soul that reads it.

'YET'

'YEEEEEEEEET'

I also didn't read that as 'yet'. I read it as 'yeet' and I have no idea why I found that so funny.

Frank was finished washing up, so I told Mikey I'd text him later on.

'Lmfao I gtg now. Hopefully I can ttyl 2nite.'

I didn't talk too much to Frank on the way back because after that conversation I had with Mikey, I knew I'd be even more giddy than I already am around him because he teases me so fucking much and I just get giddy around cute boys in general. It was a little more awkward but a little more exciting now that I had fessed up to having a bit of a thing for him. I just still wished we hadn't met at this camp and we had more time that way. True, we could meet up after it ended, but he didn't live that close to me. I'd guessed it was at least two hours. Still in an urban area, but still so far. Of course, there were phone calls and texting, but it's just not the same as being face to face with someone.

Before we walked into the room, Jackass stopped us and asked Frank to talk with him outside. Frank looked pissed as fuck, but complied. I waited on the bed and all I made out of the conversation was a "What? No! You can't fucking…you can't do that! I-" from Frank, before he got cut off by Jackass, who sharply said "You will cooperate young man, whether you like it or not." From there, I couldn't make out what the conversation was about, Frank just kept protesting against whatever Jackass was saying with various swear words in between. After about three minutes of this, Frank came back into the room looking like he had the nerve to bomb the place. I sank when Jackass called me outside after.

"Why did you call me out here, sir?" I asked, as respectfully as I could, because I had a feeling I didn't want to fuck with him after Frank freaked out.

"Today I spoke with your mother. She wants you to reside in the facility for four more months, unless she changes her mind."

Those were probably the most terrifying words to me right now.

Nice. Peachy. Just fucking wonderful. I had the same panicked feeling as I did when they told us we had to get blood tests, but right now it was like I was paralyzed. I couldn't even emit a response. I just looked up at him, probably with a look of disbelief on my face, but I had lost so much self-awareness that I didn't even know for sure. I thought it was the end of the world when I found out it was a whole month, never mind a total of five fucking months!

I guess he got the memo that I wasn't planning on replying anytime soon. "I told her about your lack of progress and how you never listen during classes. She wants the best for you, Gerard. She wants you to become a real man." Wow. Again with this 'real man' bullshit? I'm pretty sure I was pretty goddamn real. I wasn't fucking plastic. I didn't have batteries or anything. I didn't need to be recharged through a socket, but they fucking treated us all like we did.

I felt a tightness in my throat that I knew all too well that told me I’d better do something before I cry. “Why do you guys do these things?” I choked out brokenly, tears probably already forming in my eyes, but perhaps I was trying too hard not to cry that I was writing off all the obvious signs that it was already starting to happen.

Jack, who I hadn’t called “Jackass” in my head in this moment, stayed mostly expressionless and stared down at me with a hint of disapproval. I was looking down, but I knew that’s what he was doing. “This is precisely why, boy. You’re weak. You’ll never be able to take care of a woman if you’re acting like one.” He upbraided mercilessly. 

The amount of bigotry and sexism that this man held in his heart made me want to start yelling at him, but Frank had already gotten upset with him and with no avail. I didn’t even have anything to say at this point. I wasn’t even focused on the fact that I was gonna be here for another four motherfucking months. I wasn’t even focused on anything. There were too many emotions clouding any sense of focus here.

“Now go on.” He prodded me back into my room. “You two boys have the opportunity to do your laundry tonight until 9:30. Go get your clothes together. You wouldn’t want to miss that, now would you?”

I shook my head. “No, sir.” My voice was so quiet that I could barely even feel myself speaking.

“Say it so I can hear you!” He spat, grabbing me by the collar.

“No sir.” I repeated, my voice louder, but rather nonchalant and emotionless.

He let me go with a nod. When I entered back into the room, I’d completely forgotten Frank was there too and it was like everything that ever made me cry just hit me right between the eyes. I hadn’t even waited to cry until I was in a more ideal spot- just right at the door, leaned up against it. It wasn’t even anything more than that. It wasn’t sobbing or just silent tears. I was simply crying.

Nothing more, nothing less.

And to my relief, Frank walked over to me. “Gee, what’s wrong? What happened?” His voice was soft as he spoke to me. It was like black in comparison to white with how furious he had been previously.

I shook my head and I don’t know why. It’s not like I wasn’t going to answer. Maybe it was because I just didn’t want any of this to be happening right now. “I’m gonna be here for another four months.”

“Yeah, I figured.” His arms winded around me and I buried my face in his shoulder, squeezing my eyes shut. “That’s what he told me too.”

My eyes opened and I wasn’t sure I was relieved or more upset. Relieved, because at least I’d have someone I know with me. Upset, because he was gonna have to endure more of this shit. My subconscious, that motherfucker, was glad that if we both had to suffer at least we’d be together, but I well knew that I was truly more upset.

“Those fucking bastards...” I muttered, trying to convert my despair into anger but not succeeding, somewhat muffled.

“You can say that again.” Frank sighed. I lightened up the mood a little with a clever yet unoriginal comeback.

“Those fucking bastards…” I echoed, trying to smile but not quite getting the job done, but as soon as Frank did, it urged me to as well.

I wiped away my tears as best I could. “Shit, I really owe you for being so nice to me.” I remarked. “I don’t even know what I should do.”

“Hm…” He started, taking a second to think. “Just make call me when this is over, I’m extremely lonely.” He chuckled weakly.

“I can definitely do that.” I agreed, but felt that was too easy to do since I was already planning on it anyways. “Anything else?”

We pulled away and Frank started putting his previously worn clothes in a bag. I’m guessing Jackass told him about the laundry thing too. “Nah Gee, it’s fine. Can’t think of anything anyway. But seriously, I’d actually be the happiest person in the world if you called me again.”

I giggled a little, collecting my own clothes. “Okay, Frankie. Hopefully I’ll be able to do something else, like a favour or something.” I smirked a little after I said that, because I hadn’t realized that “favour” could mean something sexual. I mean, I wasn’t complaining. I was actually kinda glad that had slipped out without revision in my head first.

Heh- “head”. 

I'm such a dirty minded, awful fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe I couldn't have a band at the moment, but I could have an idea" is probably one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever written, but I had an opportunity, so I seized it. 
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter. I'm getting more emo over here the more I write this. Also, sorry I haven't been putting up chapters daily, wifi has been up and down...like my life. HahahHAHA comedy and overused jokes. 
> 
> Anyways, keep reading for more gay.


	8. Truth or dare, AKA, Gerard's realization of having a major daddy kink

I don’t know if you’ve ever thought you were halfway through something horrible and then found out you weren’t even a quarter way through, but you don’t feel too hot when what you previously thought was gonna be the end rolls along and you’re still not even a quarter way through.

After I had quite literally cried on Frank’s shoulder more than once, a new ice patch was broken: sensitivity. So far on more than one occasion he’d proven to actually care about how I felt and that made my shallow little crush slightly deeper- but like, puddle-deep. The kind of puddle that seeps a little into your shoes and it bothers you a little but it’s really not a big deal.

Boy...I’m not gonna lie, after what Mikey said about me coming back from gay conversion camp with a boyfriend, I have thought about it. My mom would actually probably kick me out, or slap me so hard that it hurts her own hand. The thing is though, no matter how much she can hurt me physically, what hurts me the most is why she would hurt me physically. I may have come to terms with my sexuality quite a while ago, but that would never cancel out nights of soaking my pillow with tears because I thought everyone on earth wanted me dead for it.

As much as I hated this camp, it let me know I was wrong. It lets me know that at least other people know what they’re doing to us is wrong and we should just be free to love who we want to. And I guess being here was more confirmation that I really was gay, because no matter how much they tortured me with the whole electrocution thing, I still liked guys. I was still gay as fuck. Maybe it was working for other people which made me actually really upset, but it wasn’t working for me. I don’t think it was working for Frank other.

I think the fact that all of us knew that if we went home to our parents and they found out we were still gay we’d be dead was what really took its toll on anyone who was actually changing. Your mind is extremely powerful. If someone says something enough to you and buries your head in it even if it’s a highly irrational lie and there’s no evidence to back it up, then you may start to believe it. It’s a form of brainwashing and ignorance on one’s part.

The mind is extremely powerful even when it proves to be weak that way.

I’d lost track of time and I didn’t even know it was the end of the month until people started leaving and that included Lindsey and Jamia. That day was actually Lindsey’s fourteenth birthday. Stella was sad to see them go although she had another friend here and they hugged like, a million times after swapping contact information. Stella was gonna be here for another month. For the record, Lindsey and Jamia were still gay. I told them to be careful when they saw their parents at home and if it helps them then to play the part and stay patient until they’re eighteen and can be free. I also told them not to hurt themselves even though it’s hard, and ended up telling them that I tried and it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

It was hard for me to say but it was part of my big brother instinct.

My big brother instinct. God, I missed Mikey as soon as I got here. Now I have to somehow get through four more months without him. I can text and call him, but it’s just not the same. I wanna see him, I wanna hug him...hear his voice, and not through a cellphone for that matter. He was my best friend, how could I not? He’d been in my life longer than not. He’s the only person who actually knows everything about me. 

Right now, lying down on my bed, definitely dampening the pillow with my wet hair, staring at the underside of the top bunk where Frank was, I just wanted someone to hug right now. Sounds kind of stupid, I know, but I really, truly did. I also wanted to be hugged. I’m not one of those teenagers that like, turns inside out if they’re touched. Of course, it depends on the person, but I surely don’t have an aversion. It made me wonder about my limits if I ever were to have a boyfriend.

Ha. Very few, probably, if not, none. But if you’re in the mood to fuck just ask first, that’s pretty common knowledge although some fuckwads choose not to follow it. If I say no then don’t and if I say yes then take your fucking pants off. Same applies on the other end. I’m not into anything non-consensual. But as for the actual contact, I think I’d just take almost everything I can get and give everything that I can give. I ain’t half-assed. If I love you, I fucking love you and that’s that.

I wondered if Frank had ever had a boyfriend, or even a girlfriend when trying to be straight. Trying to be straight is something I think every queer person goes through at some point because we believe that the world won’t ever accept us for at least a little time. Relationships had never really come up in conversation, and upon realizing this, I suddenly became extremely interested in what his idea of love was. But I wasn’t gonna ask. I find that kind of creepy.

As for today officially marking thirty-two days of being here, it didn’t really feel any different. I’c completely gotten used to living my life like this- being awoken by a brutal knock on the door, having electrocution become part of my morning routine- hell, I’d even gotten used to the speeches and lectures. My mind had wrapped around the routine, but the reason why I was here still hurt really badly. And I still had the fear of what would happen when I got back.

I turned to my side, hugging myself at the thought that came into my head a little more often than I was comfortable with. I had no intention of getting into different clothes or taking anything off, because this was a really crippling feeling. One thing I had noticed when I came here was that I had a lot more intrusive negative thoughts. I mean, it’s of course expected- it’s not an ideal situation, and I’d been depressed before. But this time it came with massive amounts of anxiety and I probably had the worst mental health I’ve ever had in my life right now.

I guess Frank noticed, because when he came back from doing his laundry I felt my mattress sink as he sat next to me. “You alright?”

It felt like we were doing this way too often now. I wondered why he cared so much, but I guessed that that meant that both of us looked at each other as a friend. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I muttered back. I was fine, relatively. I had been crying on his shoulder before, letting tears spill out of me like water out of an overflowing bathtub.

“You seem like you’ve had the life totally sucked out of you.” He mentioned, rather nonchalantly, and he sounded like he was being pretty serious, but it still caused a smile to tug at my lips.

“I’m just tired.” I countered, keeping the smile on.

He gave me a skeptical look, and he knew I was lying. 

“You got me.” I admitted, smirking somewhat defeatedly. “Can we just talk about something else? I’d rather not cry a river this time.” I chuckled, not because I thought it was funny- but one of those nervous laughs that I seemed to be rather aware of this past month.

Frank nodded understandingly. “Okay. What do you wanna talk about?” He opened, turning around and sitting cross-legged, facing me.

“I dunno.” I sat up, shrugging. “It’s weird now that you ask me.” I started trying to smile again, hoping it might give me some sort leverage in the conversation.

Frank laughed a little. “Alright, um...truth or dare?”

I laughed as well, shaking my head. “Frankie, I haven’t played that game since I was fourteen.”

“Fair. I haven’t played it since I was thirteen.” He combatted jokingly, crossing his arms like he was in fact thirteen and trying to compete with his fellow thirteen-year-old that would be me. 

“Touché…” I admitted, my flirty-giggling urge tingling. “Truth.”

Frank thought for a moment, seeming somewhat disappointed that he couldn’t dare me to do something absolutely ridiculous that he could make fun of me for later. Recognizing this, I realized that I probably wouldn’t mind. “Have you ever tried having a girlfriend?”

Him asking me that made me wonder two things: one, was he trying to actually convert himself and two, has he ever had a girlfriend? But I didn’t bring that up, and replied with a no. 

“Huh, I would have guessed otherwise. Now it’s your turn.”

“I know how to play truth or dare, dummy.” I chatted, giggling this time for a reason, for the reason of Frank thinking that I had the ability to be in some sort of a relationship. “Truth or dare?”

“Um...dare.” He piped, eager for what I’d say, a slightly coy and reckless smile splayed out on his face which I found the be just about the most sexy thing in the world right now. Especially with the lip ring, my god…

I blinked a couple times because I realized I was staring at his lips again. I instead focused on the fact that now I had the power of embarrassing him. I grinned somewhat mischievously at this opportunity, but I totally had no idea what to dare him to do. Actually, I did, I just pretended I didn’t because I wasn’t gonna do it. I just pretended that I completely wanted to dare him to kiss me which would just bring out my inner middle-schooler even more right now.

“I dare you…” I started, as if that would help me come up with a suitable dare fast enough. At least I said something, even if it wasn’t an actual dare.

I seriously couldn’t think of anything, probably mostly because the thought of him kissing me was making me all flush on the inside and it was fucking distracting. What the hell was I gonna say?!

“You dare me to…?”

“I dare you to kiss me.” I blurted out, then put my hand over my mouth when my jaw dropped and I turned unbelievably red. “I mean, I didn’t mean that, I just...I dunno why I said that I- I don’t.” I protested, giggling now nervously. “I don’t.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

I nodded because he fully understood what I meant by “I don’t”, but I actually had no idea what “I don’t” meant. “Yes. I don’t.” I repeated, even though I was affirming something that made absolutely no sense to me. 

Goddammit Gerard.

“You don’t what? You don’t want me to kiss you?” He questioned, smirking, and oh my fucking god, that smirk wasn’t helping at all.

“What? N-no! I mean, like, yes...but like, not like, I don’t, but like, I don’t, like...I just.” I became incoherent and just stopped making sense by the end of my sentence. First it’s “I don’t” and then it’s “I just”.

Nice going, loser.

Frank said nothing, he was just looking at me expectantly with a weaker smirk than before. This was more like a dare as he watched me struggle to find words. There was an extremely awkward silence, and my stupid brain perceived that as “Keep talking, because clearly if there’s silence you’re not done explaining yourself”.

“It’s like...it’s not that I don’t like you or anything, um, I don’t like you LIKE THAT but I just don’t-”

“Gee, shut up and just let me kiss you?” He cut me off, moving extremely close to me, almost that our foreheads were touching. The direct eye contact he made with me made me feel totally weak.

“Um…” I stammered, glancing down at his lips, noticing the way he too gazed at mine. “Yeah...okay.” I complied, bedridden, completely giving myself away to him right now.

I tried to stop wondering why he almost convinced me that that was what I meant to say like he had some obsession with my lips like I did with his as our lips pressed together, but soon enough my head got so fuzzy that I didn’t even have to try. I found it kind of funny that both times I kissed a guy I wasn’t even in love with him, but at least I could say that I had at least a small crush on one of them now. Even though my “small crush” felt more like a moon-sized crush in this moment, because fuck- we were kissing, and for a prolonged amount of time with a slight tongue brush on my lip from him.

The contrast in temperature with his cold lip ring and his actual warm lips was confusingly hot and I felt myself go unusually hard at such a small thing, so when we pulled away, I moved my sweater down below my crotch and lower so that I was sitting on it and also folded my arms so it was covered enough. He could probably tell, being another guy he probably knew the state of desperately hiding a boner, but at least if I was trying to hide it he’d be less likely to make a comment.

I didn’t look at him, I just looked to the side, biting down on my lip in unsuccessful attempts to hide what wanted to be me smiling like an idiot. But I noticed I wasn’t that red anymore- it was like I blushed until something happened to release it. It was like...a blush-gasm.

Bitch, nope. Nope! Scratch that! That sounds way too weird, especially considering who I just kissed to make that happen.

“So, uh…” I was actually surprised I was the first one to speak, but not surprised enough to take me out of my just-kissed state. Shit, now I’m just making this sound even more weird. “Your turn?” I eased, trying to look at him, and when I finally brought myself too he was smiling just as much as I was.

“Mhm.” He responded, now biting his own lip. I wondered if that was something most people did after kissing someone? “So you were fourteen the last time, eh?”

“Yep.” I confirmed.

“Does this top the last time?” Oh Frank, this time wasn’t the only the only thing that I think topped.

I was reluctant to answer, because the answer was somewhere along the lines of “Yes, fuck yes it was daddy, we should play truth or dare a lot more often” and I definitely wasn’t gonna say that. I wasn’t gonna imply I wanted to be fucked by someone that I would only admit to having a vague crush on. So I just replied with a simple: “Yes, yes it did. And for you?”

“I definitely think this is something that happens to immature middle schoolers a lot more than kids our age.” Frank stated, chuckling. “But that was probably my gayest experience ever and I loved it. But...promise our friendship won’t be insanely awkward now?”

I nodded, also chuckling. “Okay, Frankie, I promise.” I agreed, gushing over the fact that I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed that.

Frank smiled sincerely. “So...truth or dare?”

I wanted to pick dare just for the sake of what just happened, but I didn’t really wanna go any further than kissing if you know what I mean. “Truth.”

“Okay. Would you kiss me again?” Fuck, he was really gonna be onto me now, wasn’t he?

I giggled embarrassedly, but I saw no reason to lie. “Yes, yes I would.” I confessed. “You’re a good kisser, alright?” Well, that wasn’t all. I also have a tiny crush on you, and I may be stupid sometimes, but I’m not stupid enough to fess up to that.

“Good to know, good to know.” He surmised. “Your turn again.”

“Truth or dare?” I hoped to hell he’d pick truth, because still- the only dare I could think of was for him to kiss me. Kissing Frank was forever gonna be my first thought when someone picked dare in truth or dare- or just when either of the words came up in conversation, really.

“I’ll pick truth, because I think that was a fuck of enough of a dare to last a long time.” Damn...it was kinda hot when he said “fuck”, now. Well, Frank says “fuck” quite a lot, so I’m screwed for eternity, aren’t I?

I decided to jump on this as an opportunity to ask something embarrassing to make it as hilarious as I could. I actually had the best idea ever, even if the answer wasn’t what I expected. “Alright. What’s the real reason you take so long in the shower?” I queried, as suavely as I could. 

Frank tried way too hard to look weirded out by the question. “Why would you- why do you want to know?”

I crossed my arms and smirked at him, eyebrows raised. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“‘That doesn’t answer my question’ doesn’t answer my question either.” He defended, but the fact that he was going to do everything to avoid the subject backed up my theories even more.

I guess it was my turn to tease him, so maybe the fact that I wasn’t gonna immediately get a direct answer from him was to my advantage. “Come on, Frankie, you’re talking to me. Everyone’s done it. I bet even Pope fucking Francis has.”

“Done what?” He was now nervously giggling and even just this was satisfying enough. Being able to make him nervously giggle? 

I went to my default flirty body language of slightly fiddling with a strand of my hair and keeping that smirk on my face. “Oh, of course- summoning Satan in the shower. Frank Iero, I believe you take so long in the shower because you summon Satan while there.” I was being painfully sarcastic, but Frank was gonna take any excuse he could get and tried to make me think he was taking me seriously.

“Really, Gerard? Do you actually?” He scoffed, acting extremely private for someone who had just kissed a guy he met a month ago.

A sigh from me turned into a giggle. “No, you dick, I’m talking about shower-jerking. You jerk off in the shower. Am I correct?” I kept giggling, and shit- my inner middle schooler was past the whole idea of truth or dare and kissing in truth or dare and was now getting giddy and blushing over masturbation.

It was Frank’s turn to have colour spill across his cheeks. “I should have picked dare.” He hid his face in his hands and I was completely dying of laughter.

“It’s okay, Frank. There’s no reason to be embarrassed, but I knew you’d be embarrassed so that’s why I asked. Makes up for all those times you teased me, yeah?” I tilted my head to the side a bit, trying to have the most charming grin on my face.

“You are fucking lucky you’re cute…” Frank grunted, looking back at me being totally amused.

And now, I had one more way to have a laugh. “So what’s your answer? Why do you, Frankie, take so damn long in the shower?”

“Oh, fuck you…” He pushed me a little, jokingly. My subconscious was like: “Yes, fuck me indeed, please.” but I knew way better than to listen to the voice that dawned upon me the fact that I had a daddy kink because I always found myself calling guys I found attractive “daddy”. Like, seriously, right now, I just realized that. Guys I found attractive being Frank...

I gazed at him with a waiting look, and he knew I was not gonna let him win.

Frank finally sighed, and gave in. “I take so damn long in the shower because I jerk off. There. I said it!” he threw his hands up like he had confessed his deepest, darkest secret. Well, maybe he had.

“Okay, that’s all I wanted to hear.” I smiled sweetly and innocently.

“I think we’ve had enough truth or dare for one night.” He shook his head, laughing. “Night, Gee.” He leaned in to hug me, and I hugged back.

“Night.” I replied, slightly muffled from the hug. He’d never hugged me before he went up to the top. It was actually kind of nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they kissed. Are you little fuckers happy?!
> 
> Lmao, it's nothing serious yet, because I don't really like fics where it's like, love at first sight and then they're fucking the next week. This was just a little truth or dare that made Gee's hormones go a little crazy. I mean if you like fics like that that then that's awesome, but I personally don't enjoy reading or writing them that much. Hopefully I'm not going painfully slow that everyone is getting bored. But don't worry about that, because there will only be more action from here so keep reading, yeah?


	9. The time Gerard was in the worst phone call of his life then temporarily lost his will and ability to eat an apple

I was expecting to have a regular, shitty morning. Wake up, wash up, get electrocuted, and sit through lectures. But in the beginning of the second lecture, Pam interrupted and asked me to come with her to head office. All eyes went to me as I stood up and followed her out the door. I took a last look at Frank before I left the room, a look that said “help”. 

“Am I in trouble?” I asked tentatively, my posture suffering greatly.

“No. Your mom is on the phone for you.” Pam chorused, because to her, trying to put herself in my shoes, that was just about the best thing in the world.

I would have completely stopped walking if I had been in the mood to argue with her, but I really wasn’t. I just had no idea how I felt about my mom calling me. I don’t know if I was angry about it or I was glad she finally decided to shape up and speak a word to a kid she fucking gave birth to after over a month of not saying shit. I guess I really wouldn’t know until I actually spoke to her, it depended on why she called me and what she wanted to talk about, and I wasn’t gonna lie- I expected some form of an apology, because if she’s got the audacity to speak to me, she better have the audacity to make things right. She’s the adult. She’s the one who fucked everything up.

Head office reminded me of a school office. I imagined it was and I wasn’t at a horrible camp and I was at school. I imagined I’d just met Frank and Stella and Lindsey and Jamia at school. You know, I’ve never wanted to be at school so badly in my life. Sure, school was really boring at times, but at least when it was engaging, you weren’t being mentally, emotionally, and physically tortured. 

The secretary at the front handed me the phone just seconds after I walked in. I reluctantly took it and opened up with a “Hello?”

“Oh Gerard, it’s been too long!” Mom exclaimed through the phone.

No shit Sherlock. You didn’t even say goodbye to me.

I didn’t know what to say. I could say something passive, or I could not. Or, I could say nothing, and just wait for her to say something.

“How is everything, baby?” She was talking like she actually cared about me. An interesting phenomenon.

“Um…” Was all I said for a moment as I decided whether or not to be passive, honest, or lie. I decided to go with lie. “Fine.” I informed weakly, sounding completely dead inside. I was, in this moment.

“That’s good to hear. So...is it working? Are there any girls there you like?” You see- I would be mad right now, but just knowing that she didn’t understand anything about me actually hurt. A lot. My own mother, who I was supposed to have a loving relationship with, knew virtually nothing about me.

I sighed and I felt my throat and shoulders tensing up. “Mom, I’m never gonna- I don’t…” I started, and instantly regretted countering her, but it was far too late. “I don’t like girls, mom.” I breathed, just barely above a whisper.

“I never want to hear that come out of your mouth ever again, young man. I’ve paid good money for this camp.” Her tone faded from her overly-cheery tone to a colder tone that sounded sadly, more familiar.

“You’re wasting it.” I spat back, and could barely believe I was talking back when I knew it was useless.

“Don’t speak to me like that.” Mom rebuked, and I started having memories of the night she told me I was going flow back to me. “I’m your mother, Gerard, for God’s sake.”

Yeah, you’re my mother, for God’s sake! You’re supposed to care about me! You’re supposed to love me, so that I love you back! Now what do you think happens if you don’t give enough of a shit about my well-being, as to not even say goodbye, not speak to me for over a month, and even send me to this goddamn camp?!

I thought, but I didn’t say anything near that. I just clenched my teeth silently, trying not to cry again, no matter how unbearable the pain in my throat or my shoulders became.

She let out a heavy sigh. “You’re not gonna talk to me, are you?”

I shook my head, even though she wouldn’t be able to see, but maybe my silence would give her the memo.

“Answer me!” She demanded, and I wondered if the secretary could hear her through the phone.

“No.” I choked out, quietly, but I know she heard.

“You know Gerard, you’ve got to understand that this is just as hard for me as it is for you. My own son won’t even speak to me and he doesn’t want to give me grandchildren. God’s punishing me just as much as he’s punishing you.” Mom lectured, and I had a fit of anger and sorrow welling up inside me and I could feel tenseness in every part of my body. My hand was even shaking as I held the telephone. 

“Don’t call me.” I murmured, and just hung up the phone and started walking out of the office before I could start crying.

Getting off of the phone with her was a slight release and I got a little less tense, but it was still painful and I had to hug myself to keep the tears in.

“Wait, Gerard!” Pam had been talking to another counselor and didn’t even notice I was gone until I was about halfway down the hallway. She ran after me, grabbing me by the arm like she thought I was gonna run away or something. I didn’t even know where the nearest door outside was. I didn’t even know where I’d run away to.

I pulled my arm back to me sharply. “I’m just going back to class.” I uttered in a monotone, continuing on. 

She monitored me in the hallway until I got back to the room and took my seat beside Frank. I avoided eye contact with everyone and just stared at the clock hoping that I would disappear or get transported to another universe so I could bawl my eyes out there.

“What happened?” Frank whispered, tapping me on the knee lightly, his fingertips rested there.

It hurt to talk and I almost winced at his touch and I really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, but I had no real reason to be mad at Frank right now so it wouldn’t exactly be fair not to reply. “I’ll tell you later.” I forced out, not in a whisper, but just in a very quiet talking voice because I knew that if I were to whisper, my voice would break and I’d cry on the spot.

Frank kept his hand on my knee, now more than just his fingertips, for the rest of the lecture. It made me feel a little less tense because I guess he knew I had been very much off from that phone call, although he didn’t know it was a phone call yet. The lecture went by excruciatingly slow and when the bell rung for the third lecture to start, I thought it had been the end of the third lecture and we were gonna be on break. To pass the time, I played the Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness album in my head up until Tales Of A Scorched Earth because the lecture ended. I didn’t know if it was insanely cool or insanely lame that I could do that.

In the cafeteria, my stomach and my heart felt like they had sunken from that stupid phone call and I seemed to have fully lost my will and ability to take one bite of an apple. It was a, to say the least, a pathetic mental battle as I held the thing in my hand- I was all like, “Okay, I’m gonna do it in three, two, one…” and then I’d end up just not moving at all and staring at the fruit’s waxy red skin. This mental process repeated about nine times, until Frank decided to speak.

“So, um...if you don’t mind me asking, what happened in head office?” He queried agilely, I guess not wanting to upset me more than I had been earlier.

I put down the apple and felt a hint of rage pooling in my gut, not against Frank, but going over the memory of the phone call and finding a way to explain it made me upset. But there really wasn’t much to explain, so I just went for it. “My mom called me.” I stated blandly, hoping that speaking with little to no emotion would keep me from crying.

Frank looked a little confused, head tilted slightly to the side. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

I shook my head solemnly, looking down at the table. “No.” I muttered. “Maybe if she apologized, yes. But she didn’t.” That last part was extremely quiet, but Frank heard.

“Oh…” He acknowledged. He’d already heard the whole spiel.

I nodded. I was doing a whole lot of body language responses in place of actual words. There was a short silence, and I figured that if it were silent any longer, my brain would start thinking that I was alone and send signals to my eyes to start leaking. 

”Why would she call me?” I asked bitterly, as if Frank knew the answer. “After all that she’s done? After how much she’s hated me?”

Frank sighed, pursing his lips. “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, Gee. It’s not easy to hate you. She’s just- confused, I guess.”

Confused is an understatement. “You think? When she saw me after I’d just slit my fucking wrists, she looked at all the blood in the bathtub and said that I’m being punished because I’m gay, and then she has the fucking audacity to call me and act like everything’s okay, Frankie.” As I spoke, words spilled out of my mouth faster, for some reason quieter, and brokenness hung off of every word. I felt pathetic, but at least I wasn’t crying in the caf this time. “Maybe she doesn’t hate me, but do you have any idea how much I hate her?” I looked at him intently, somewhat desperately- I don’t know what for.

He made eye contact with me, and looked down before rejoining. “Yeah, I do.” He remarked, shrugging a little.

I gave him a profound look, because it did make sense that he’d understand that. He, after all, was sent to this camp too. Maybe we weren’t in the exact same situation, but both of us had an unaccepting parent. I suddenly felt bad for complaining about it. “I’m sorry, Frank, I just, I shouldn’t have even- I dunno, I’m sorry.” I apologized, not being entirely aware of my own motive.

“It’s okay, Gee. You don’t have to apologize.” He reassured, moving closer to me on the bench and putting a hand on my shoulder, rubbing my arm a bit.

I tried smiling, but only half of my lips complied and it turned out like a sad smile. Frank really seemed care a lot about me. I don’t know what I did to deserve it. I don’t think I did anything to deserve anyone who could make me feel the way he made me feel. I mean that in a non-romantic way, of course. Maybe my subconscious begged to differ, but I think we have established that my subconscious was insanely irrational and should not be credited at all.

For the rest of the day, I just kind of felt like a ghost. I didn’t talk much or do anything interesting, I just kind of followed Frank and stayed with him at all costs. I felt safer when he was just around. He didn’t even need to say much, or anything at all- just knowing he was there and he didn’t think I was annoying or a drag was unexplainably reassuring. It may not have stopped me from being sad, but it stopped me from being so unbearably sad that I said or did things I didn’t mean.

The few days were strikingly similar to the day my mom called but minus the phone call. The ghost-like sad feeling lingered, so much so that I didn’t scream as much during the electrocution because I felt so dead. For me, a lack of expression was a sign of being sad. Empty. If I wasn’t showing tremendous amounts of emotion, then something was off. My brother and I were very different that way- he had a tailored poker face 24/7 while I was rather animated when I was feeling like myself.

Frank took notice to my off-ness at lunch like he had that day, and I guess me being reluctant to eat (I’d discovered that I had not only temporarily lost my will and ability to take a bite out of an apple, but I had also mostly lost my appetite). “Gee, on days like...like this, is there anything I can do? Because I’ll do it. I don’t like seeing you sad.”

My heart just about melted at that and I smiled a genuine smile, and I almost wanted to cry, like I did basically half of the fucking time because I’m so goddamn emotional- but like, sort of a happy cry. It was beginning to fascinate me more than it should have that he cared this much. “You don’t have to do anything, Frankie. Just...just be there. That’s all.”

He smiled back, nodding understandingly. “Okay. If you change your mind, just tell me.”

I don’t exactly know the feeling it gave me when Frank did stuff like this. It was like a fuzzy feeling added to the awful feeling. The awful feeling was still there, but it felt like when you’re sick and really stuffed up in immense pain and you’re just kind of lying down on your bed without the covers with your eyes closed. The pain is still there, it’s not drowned out, but there’s something else good there that makes it bearable.

“Thank you for caring…” I thanked, feeling my face get warm and probably pinkish. Usually, I know why I blush, but right now, I didn’t know why I was blushing.

“How could I not?” Frank responded, rather warmly.

And the warmth in his voice sent a small heat wave over my body on top of the blush.

I really wanted to hold his hand, or something- something profound other than just smile and scramble for words in my head. But my opportunity in the moment was taken away when we were called back to our classes. There really wasn’t much to say about them- they were really just rhetoric anti-sodomy teachings about how God is watching and whatnot and he wants you to kiss his ass and change the way you were born to worship him. It’s the same thing presented differently each time, with some shit about STDs thrown in as if gays are the only ones who get STDs.

Waiting for Frank this time was different, not only because he took longer in the shower this time, not only because I knew just why he took longer in the shower and we both giggled awkwardly a little when he came out- but it all came with sort of a longing, that is, looking at him. Seeing parts of his body that would otherwise be covered (even though certain parts were still hidden). A more raw image of him that gathered a dense, ever so slightly awkward but relieved feeling in me. It was wildly strange, to say the least, and I hadn’t even caught my trance until a locker shut rather loudly. It was a small feeling, by small I mean not of much significance, so I decided to ignore it. Probably came from the crazy fucker that it my subconscious, anyway.

In the room, neither of us spoke of the truth or dare game last night- in fact, I don’t think we’d ever even get close to mentioning it again. We sort of just hung out, sitting on the floor up against the bunk bed, listening to soft rock music that made you feel slightly stoned from his MP3 player (certainly not the best sound quality, but there was something appealing about that). I told Mikey all about the truth or dare and the kiss and stuff although I hesitated to do so because of what would likely be his overblown reaction, even outside of text. You see- Mikey didn’t really express much emotion, but he was a total animal when it came to texting.

As for his response, it was something along the lines of random letters and “HOLY FUCK” and “I TOLD U SO”.

When he had to go to bed, I took out my sketchbook. I honestly really wanted to draw an actually good drawing of Frank, not a cartoon skeleton with a label saying “FRANK” on it, but he was right beside me and that would still be way too cliche and predictable- well, it would be more so if I actually felt like, y’know, romantic feelings towards him. But it was still cliche. 

So instead of drawing Frank himself, I drew the small scorpion tattoo he had on his neck. What creeped me out a bit was that I knew it so well that I didn’t even have to look over at him that much. The times that I did look over he didn’t notice, because he had his head against the bed and his eyes closed, tapping on his knees to the beat of Karma Police. And again, might I remind you, I’ve known him for a little over a month.

In my defense and in my repetition, we’ve basically been living together. But it was still a little creepy of me, if you ask my subconscious.

After I was done, I’d moved onto sketching a dead rose in the corner of the same page for no particular reason other than the fact that I thought they were pretty and rather romantic. I also felt rather dead right now, so that’s why the rose was dead as opposed to alive. Sure it looked the same, dead or alive, because I wasn’t gonna colour it. But to me, it was dead. Of course me thinking roses were also romantic had nothing to do with my small crush. You see, crushes don’t really have to be romantic. So why would it have to do with a crush if it’s not even relevant to it?

I decided I’d better stop elaborating on this so much otherwise I’ll be mistaken for Hamlet’s mother who kept going on and on about how she would never marry another man after she was widowed, so much so that it became insincere and overly-defensive and it was obviously a lie. “The lady doth protest too much”...I think I’ve mentioned it before, but whatever. Studying and dissecting Shakespeare in school left you with an interesting, very high school esque not-necessarily-bad kind of trauma- like how almost all you remember when science is mentioned at all is “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell”.

Unless that’s just me, being the odd person I am.

Soon enough, to my startle, Frank commented “Nice drawing, Gee.”

I jumped a little, almost dropping the pencil, not realizing he had opened his eyes. I was glad my arm had been covering the drawing of the scorpion, otherwise that would have made for an awkward situation where I’d scramble for an excuse. “Thanks.” I replied, cracking a small smile.

“You briefly told me about your art, I never expected you to be this good to be honest.” He said slightly teasingly, and I gave him a light shove at the anything but hostile backhanded compliment.

I had been expecting Frank to say something stupid like “how” or “draw me” just because that’s what the majority of people said, which didn’t make them stupid as a person, it was just annoying, but I was glad that he didn’t say “how” and slightly disappointed that he didn’t say “draw me” because I really wouldn’t have had any problem with drawing him.

“Mind if I take a look?” He queried, gesturing to my sketchbook. I normally didn’t show people my drawings, but I didn’t think he’d go crazy over anything and over-flatter with unoriginal comments or judge my more shitty drawings, so I handed it over to him and opened it on the first page.

It was a drawing of my brother Mikey and seeing it made me smile a bit. Frank smiled as well. “This is your brother, right?”

“Yeah. He’s the one who bought me the book actually, so I thought it was only appropriate to make him the first drawing in it.” I thought back to that day and drawing Mikey and laughing at how easy it was because he was so good at keeping a straight face. I found myself again missing him terribly.

I instead focused my attention on Frank who seemed way too intrigued by my weird, dark art. He came to this one with actual colour in it, which was a picture of a man and a woman about to kiss with blood splattered all over the place. It was kind of a messy, random thing that came into my head at around 3:00 AM that had some weird concepts to it, but he took special interest in this one.

“You know, if you actually wanna do music one day, for being a vocalist or something, you could make some badass album covers. This is some punk rock dark shit right here.” He attributed, pointing to the drawing.

“You’re too sweet, Frankie.” I mused, giggling a little, blushing lightly. I tried to compensate for this out of the ordinary recognition by doing something casual like resting my head on my hand, but my giddish-ness transferred to my fingers apparently and I started playing with my hair again.

“No, like, I’m dead serious Gerard- this is fucking cool.” He continued with flattery and it came to the point where I just hid my face in my hands. I would have done it in my sleeves if I had any right now, but I was just wearing a short-sleeved black t-shirt.

“Agh, stop, you’re being too nice.” I said, slightly muffled but it was more like I was talking through a telephone because my hands were still on my face.

“Okay, okay. I wanna see more anyway, so…”

“Frankie!” I drawled, carrying on the “ie”. Shit, I was really bad at taking compliments. Had to work on that before I started sounding like an attention whore.

He didn’t respond with words, but he snickered a little as he turned the page, knowing he had me totally vulnerable with my irritation. My irritation which I very much enjoyed having when I was teased in a non-serious manner. You know, as much as I wasn’t used to the attention and got a little embarrassed over it, I really appreciated how he took a second to actually really look at the art before turning to the next page. I don’t know why, but it just gave me a bit of a relief.

“I like this one too. It’s cute.” He laughed a little, pointing to…the drawing I had made on the bus that day.

Oh...oh shit.

“Ah, fuck! You weren’t supposed to see that one!” I snatched my sketchbook back, giggling embarrassedly, but like the kind of embarrassing that you felt when you and your friends just did something stupid but awesome.

Frank was laughing too, I’m not sure at me or at the drawing. “I’m so sorry- you probably think I’m totally weird now.” I excused, facepalming myself.

“Gee, I always thought you were weird.” He half-countered. I say “half” because he did in fact think I was weird, but he hadn’t just decided that, he knew it from the start. He wasn’t wrong. “It’s fine. I like it. I think it’s funny. It’s cute. You’re cute. You’re weird, too.”

I had finally been calming down from giggling and I totally lost it at “you’re cute”. I think I lost any sense of composition at that and I silently cursed myself for doing so because sure, I could take kissing the guy for what was a good and healthy twenty seconds, but I couldn’t take this without feeling uncontrollably giddy when I was otherwise dead inside.

“Okay, I’m glad.” I finally caught a hold of myself, handing the sketchbook back, but when he turned the page, a brief look of confusion befell his face and he tilted his head to the side a little when he saw the scorpion I’d drawn, but then his expression lightened to a smile.

I facepalmed again, thoroughly disappointed in myself. “God fucking dammit...this is just awkward now.” I shook my head, blaming my subconscious as if it were their fault.

“Gerard. Chill out. I don’t mind.” He affirmed, putting a hand on my shoulder. God, his touch felt strong.

Shut up, subconscious! Shut up, shut up, shut up!

I said nothing but just sighed, my eyes diverting to Frank, my head rested on the side of the bed. I started feeling slightly dead inside again. My whole head wasn’t against it like Frank’s was because he was shorter than me. I gazed at him from the side, one of my hands still covering the side of my face and now tangling in my hair. Frank also rested his head against the bed, looking at me innocently. We could only keep up about ten seconds of this eye contact, before I unsuccessfully stifled a giggle.

“I think we’d both better get to bed.” Frank started. “You’re definitely getting tired- giggling so much, delusional.”

It was hard not to do it again. “Alright. See you in the morning.” I said as he paused To Forgive, nodding and putting the MP3 player away before making his way up.

“Night.” He mused before I turned off the light.

“Night.” I replied.

And after that, I just started feeling the dead feeling again. It was fucking weird. I feel it for a few seconds, then it goes away for a little, then it comes back just like that as soon as I say my last word to Frank for the night. I hated it. I would have probably cried if feeling things other than emptiness were in my ability right now. 

And I probably wouldn’t have been malnourished these past few days if eating an apple was in my ability right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sad shit, because I gotta be realistic. It happens to people and it sucks, I'd be lying if I said it hasn't happened to me being bisexual and raised in a wildly homophobic household and having just about the shittiest people in my life. This story's got a lot of my own personal feelings and experiences implemented into it, so I hope this chapter especially is also appreciated by you guys. I highly appreciate your appreciation. But the thing is, there's some really great moments in the story too because again- I gotta be realistic. Life can be totally 99% shit sometimes, but at least you've still got that 1% of non-shit, even if you feel like the whole entire world is against you.
> 
> It isn't, I promise, but I get that in bad moments it's hard to think rationally.
> 
> Well, now that I've done some profound speaking about mental health and stuff, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope nothing is getting boring. If it is, then read the next chapter- who knows, maybe it'll be better than this one. If it's not boring- then fuck, read the next chapter too. Thank you so much for reading my stories, my heart skips a beat every time I see there's more kudos or comments. 
> 
> Have a non-horrible day or night, stay safe, eat well, drink well, take care of yourself and love yourself and be kind- I usually don't say stuff like this, but I believe it's rather relevant to the chapter.


	10. Breaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an additional trigger warning for this chapter especially for depicted self harm (cutting) although it’s not described and mention of starving oneself (it’s only spoken of, it’s not considered by any characters, it’s just mentioned). Neither of these actually happen in real life in the story, but they are mentioned. Please skip this chapter if you think you’re at risk, I don’t want anyone to be unsafe. There is a *//* when the depiction of cutting starts and when it’s over, so if you want to read the chapter but just skip that then look out for the symbol. There is also mention of not being able to eat due to depression setting in so if you think that may trigger you also then I suggest you skip the whole chapter because it’s rather distinct and a focus for a while. And if you’d like to know why these things are being included in the story, then skip to the end notes. I don’t want anyone misinterpreting my intentions. Stay safe my friends.

It took me what felt like hours to sleep that night.

It was that I had lots on my mind. My body and mind just didn’t want to sleep. They wanted to torture me with this sick and empty feeling for a prolonged amount of time, might I mention an amount of time where I can’t exactly get help. I didn’t want to wake Frank up, and if I did, then what would I say? “I feel dead inside and can’t sleep”? What the hell would that accomplish, huh? Exactly. Nothing. I myself am nothing. I’m insanely fucking stupid for even letting that thought cross my mind even if I still had no intention of doing it.

The night was filled with tossing and turning and slightly labored breathing because I had broken out into a cold sweat at some point. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I wanted to sob, really, just to get all my emotions out even though I had no idea if this truly was emptiness and void or a truly horrible feeling. I had that actual desire to cry for once, but I felt no tightness in my chest or shoulders, no lump in my throat, no nothing. I even tried thinking about things that have made me cry. The death of my grandmother. Seeing my brother cry when my mom sent me to my room after I’d tried killing myself. Trying to kill myself. My mom telling me I was going to this camp.

How come earlier on I wanted to cry when I couldn’t but I couldn’t cry now that I could?

If that makes any ounce of fucking sense at all.

I started hating everything about this moment. I was starting so wish I’d spontaneously combust or die or randomly get killed right in this moment just so that I could rest. I started hating myself, getting mad at my own brain or whatever had cast me on this hellish ride. I started hating myself so much that I had the actual desire to hurt myself, not enough for me to die, but enough to teach myself a lesson I guess. I say “I guess” because the urge didn’t entirely make sense. Nothing made sense. Why was this happening now? Why had it not happened before? 

I didn’t entirely know how long I’d been awake but it felt like it could have been all night. I did manage to fall asleep, but I don’t think I ever managed being tired. I think all of the pure frustration that had built up in me would have overloaded if my body didn’t put itself to sleep, so it eventually did. 

*//* 

I had a rather morbid dream that scared the living shit out of me when I woke up. I suppose all those thoughts of hurting myself manifested itself in a dark, twisted dream. A dream where I pictured myself locked up in a small room, hurting myself over and over with an unidentifiable sharp object but it just kept closing up like it would for Wolverine and I got so frustrated over it and just kept doing it.

*//*

When I woke up to another empty and routined weekend, it was different from what I’d gotten accustomed to the past month and week. Instead of being woken up by a loud banging on the door, I was woken by Frank lightly shaking me awake.

“Gee. Hate to break it to you, but we’ve got to go get ready now before we get our asses kicked.” He confided gently.

I rose slightly, my face no longer being buried in the sheets. How the hell did I sleep like that without suffocating? But that wasn’t the most of my confusion. Why was Frank waking me up as opposed to the usual knocking? “Is it early or something? Is something happening?” I wondered, becoming slightly anxious at the possibilities. Did we have to run away or something? Was there a fire? These worries totally disregarded Frank saying that we had to get ready and went straight to all the worst case scenarios.

Frank shook his head. “No, it’s late, actually. Jack already came to the room and I debated waking you up or not, but you fell asleep already in like, clothes, so I figured the time would be the same.”

Fuck, that’s weird. I never oversleep, even if I go to bed at an unhealthily late time. And how did I manage to sleep through the knock? It’s so damn loud. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. And thinking this about how something was very wrong just made me want to stay in bed and sulk and sleep. And the fact that I wanted to stay in bed and sulk and sleep made me want to stay in bed and sulk and sleep even more.

I begrudgingly lifted the covers off of me, not realizing that I hadn’t even replied to Frank, and realizing that he was right about me going to sleep in regular clothes. I hadn’t even taken any notice to that before. When I started moving, I felt aches almost everywhere in my body, particularly my chest and shoulders and back of my neck. It shocked me and I felt like I couldn’t move anymore. It wasn’t that I was actually frozen up- I could move just fine, but it hurt a lot. It felt tense, like my muscles had condensed themselves overnight. 

Ignoring the pain, I got my bag with the wash-up stuff and proceeded with the morning routine as usual. The electrocution hurt extra today because the sting was in addition to the tenseness I’d been feeling since I woke up. It was the kind of pain that didn’t make you scream so much, but it made you cry. Sob, actually. By the end of it, I was gasping for air through my tears, which faded into small hiccups. 

“Took it pretty tough today, yeah?” Frank said comfortingly when I sat beside him in the classroom.

I couldn’t reply with words, so I just nodded and looked down at my legs, one crossed over the other. Frank pulled me into an awkward side hug and I leaned into him, but stopped realizing that if any counselors saw us doing stuff like this, we’d probably be separated.

“I, um...” I started, sniffling and catching my breath. “I don’t want to be separated. We should play it a little safer.” I looked at him apologetically, because I didn’t want him to get the message that I didn’t like physical contact in our friendship. 

“Yeah...yeah, you’re right.” He agreed, pulling away slowly.

It was like we were trying to hide some grandiose secret that we were secretly in love or secretly fucking when really we were just friends who did gay shit sometimes. Actually, more like all the time. I mean, we were both gay, so it made sense. Like Frodo and Sam from Lord Of The Rings, they were friends but they seemed like a little more than that. But no matter how much people deny it, nobody can tell me that that friendship wasn’t at least a little gay. Frank was also a lot closer to the height of a Hobbit than I was and ever will be.

The first lecture of the day was the very hardest to get through because I had just been crying. Upon mostly incoherent and nonsensical thoughts, I’d get that tense about-to-cry feeling in my throat and I couldn’t pin down why because my thoughts were so blurry. And by the time the tense about-to-cry feeling in my throat was gone, it transferred its pain to my shoulders and I still couldn’t identify what triggered it. That happened about a total of seven times in the hour before we were directed to our next class.

I stuck more close to Frank as we walked to the next room, shoulder to shoulder- actually, more like shoulder to upper arm because again, he was very short. I found it cute, honestly. I was now more than ever confused as to why girls wouldn’t date short guys because they found it unattractive. I mean, not like I’d actually date him or anything, but I would. Okay, shit, that makes no sense at all. Forget I said anything. Actually, I never said anything, I just thought it. And it made no sense because my brain has become slightly mushy from crying earlier, and my brain had not been thinking properly in the first place because I still feel exceptionally dead.

Being in my brain today was worse than it was yesterday and yesterday it was pretty damn bad. Graphic images of my dream last night popped into my head a few times and in those moments I couldn’t really feel myself breathing or feel my heart beating. I’m sure it was happening otherwise I would have actually physically died, but I was completely out of touch with it. I was out of touch with everything, really, except for the sad, dead inside feeling. It had completely engulfed me and I couldn’t get out. It was like I’d just dove headfirst into an ocean of depression from a cliff and this feeling was the undercurrent.

It didn’t even make me wanna cry. It didn’t make me want to do anything, really. Nada. Zero. Bupkis. Not even crawl into a corner and die. Right now, I felt completely invisible and like I didn’t exist to myself. I suppose it was better this way rather than agonizing over it. Or was it? I’m not sure. I’m not sure if I’d rather be suffering greatly or feeling extremely numb, because I hated both. And right now, I wasn’t self-aware enough to figure it out. I couldn’t even force myself to feel anything.

Being spaced out like this somehow made everything go by faster than when I was trying to entertain my thoughts. I’m not saying it was better, but it was faster. I again found myself not wanting to eat at lunch today, but Frank said something about it this time.

“Gee, you haven’t been eating more than a couple bites for at least three days now. You look like you could just about collapse. You’ve got to eat something.” He said firmly but not demandingly, shifting my tray with a sandwich, an apple, and a juice box on it closer to me.

I took a small, shaky breath in, eyeing the food on the tray. I hadn’t actually felt such a strong aversion to eating and the thought of it made me feel sick and I had no idea why. I had been depressed before, it happens to everyone, but I’ve never withdrawn from eating. I again didn’t say anything taking full advantage of body language and simply shook my head, looking away from the tray.

“Gerard” Frank’s tone was stronger this time, but more full of concern rather than frustration. “Eat.” He insisted.

I still said nothing, looking down now.

He sighed. “Why don’t you want to eat?”

That was the thing, I didn’t know. I wasn’t not eating for some purpose. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t push myself to. “I can’t.” I forced out, briefly looking at him, but unable to keep eye contact.

It seemed like he really didn’t know how to respond to that, so I decided I’d try to explain myself. “I don’t know why. I’m not like, trying to starve myself or anything. I just can’t make myself do it.”

Frank put a hand on my shoulder which made me feel alive for a split second and in the process of feeling alive, feeling a hint of hope, but it died down very quickly. “Does this have something to do with your mom calling you?” He canvassed gently. “You’ve been acting off ever since.”

I opened my mouth to say no, but stopped to think for a moment, realizing that I started feeling dead inside when my mom called me. She’s the one who started it. I was doing okay before this. Now, I’m breaking. She’s breaking me, it’s all her fault and she’s my own mother. My own blood. I was born from her. I suppose it would have been better if I was just not born at all.

Actually, no- take away the “I suppose”. It would have been better if I was just not born at all.

“Gee?” Frank’s voice took me back into reality and my horrible posture and social absence had dawned upon me, I had just been staring down at the table.

I diverted my eyes to his and nodded. “Yes.” I deadpanned. “Yes, it does have to do with her.”

Saying it out loud made me want to puke because vocalizing something so disenchanting made it officially valid somehow. Thinking about puking made me anxious because I didn’t even have any actual food to puke and it hurt more when it was just bile, for some reason. And being more anxious about puking made that outcome far more probable than before. It’s strange how the body and mind work together, and I’d been learning that firsthand from not being able to sleep to this hellish- whatever the fuck it was.

I stood up, speaking and looking inscrutably. “I’ve got to use the washroom.” 

And puking is exactly what I did in the washroom, just like I had when my mom told me the news.

It really has been all her fault. 

I am breaking, I thought, and I didn’t have to say it out loud this time for it to be valid.

_____

 

That night I stood under the shower stream for a prolonged amount of time as if it would help or make me cry, which could potentially be a form of help too. I used to think feeling sad was the worst thing but right now I was learning something new: feeling empty was worse. The current had pulled me under so deeply that it didn’t even feel like a current anymore. It was just…

Nothing.

The next day Frank tried getting me to eat again. I managed the smallest and most insignificant two bites of and apple that I believe I have ever seen in my life, but it seemed to bring a little relief to Frank so in my mind, it was worth it. For the next week, I brought myself to a total of four bites of an apple. Not in one day- but collectively in the seven days. That’s 1.75 bites every day. In all the emptiness, I felt a small but very dense spot of guilt for being depressed even after Frank was doing so much to take care of me. It made me want to just hug him for a really long time and not let go. It also made me want to cry for some odd fucking reason, but I still couldn’t do that (actually, there probably was not even an odd-fucking-reason, it was probably closer to no reason).

I’d been catching myself just staring at the floor or at my shoes lately. Not even the wall. My head tilted down even as I was walking and it was like my eyes were weighted down, being confined to the floor. I looked up only once in awhile when I got in trouble in class during lectures for obviously not paying attention (they were starting to notice and I would have naturally been very annoyed but I was only wishing I was) or to give Frank a nonverbal response like a head nod or a forced half-smile. Yes, half-smile. All my efforts weren’t enough for a full one.

As for my time with Frank after the day was over, we just talked. No crazy truth or dares or embarrassing sketchbook tours (not like there’d be anything new to see, considering the fact that my motivation had been completely waxed out of my system), just talking. I didn’t talk too much, I just mostly asked him questions. He tried asking me questions too, but my answers were vague and rather half-assed, because all of my efforts weren’t enough for even this. Frank didn’t seem to mind. He was so patient. I loved hearing him talk- it made the ghost of joy flutter around in my soul for a little while, manifesting itself in a strange fascination with his voice- an obsession, if you must. 

One time I even fell asleep as he was talking. Not out of boredom, but because I liked listening to him. It was easier to fall asleep focusing on Frank’s words rather than focusing on how numb I felt or my new found hatred rather than my past disfavour for my mother. Anything he told me about him was something that I remembered. It was like I had a special file in my brain for him, but I don’t believe that’s exactly how the average human brain works and I also don’t believe my brain is special or anything other than average, at least not in this universe it’s not. I’m pretty sure Sherlock Holmes is the only person whose brain works like that with his whole mind palace.

(Author’s note: sigh, ASOTM…now back to the story, I wouldn’t dare even try to compare even a fucking comma in my humble work to even a fucking comma in that piece of fucking art. I’ve also got to stop f-bombing so much, I suppose it’s why I’m never asked to babysit...)

I suppose this week was better than last week because Frank understood a little better what’s been going on for the past two weeks and being the fucking amazing friend and person in general that he is he’s trying to do something about it. It’s yet another thing that makes me feel something at all- no, he in general makes me feel something, even if it’s not a lot, even if I don’t entirely understand everything that he’s made me feel. But it’s something. Again, something I may not entirely understand- but it’s a something and I don’t hate it. It makes me wonder if I…

Hm.

Looks like it rained, and the puddle became a pond this week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID YOU GET THAT POND THING
> 
> PLEASE TELL ME YOU DID I'M VERY PROUD OF IT (a little too proud it's kind of pathetic)
> 
> So anyways, I hope that you've come to the end of this chapter without being triggered. I did put an explicit warning in the beginning though. Just thought I'd mention that I'm not including these elements in my story just for the sake of the story or making it more interesting or anything like that, even though it does add additional elements that not many people are educated about. But that is precisely why I'm including it- because I want to educate people about the effects of homophobia and what victims of homophobia sometimes if not often go through. I have a purpose with each more negative chapter. I find that in the world of fiction, depression and anxiety and self harm are depicted extremely unrealistically and/or are romanticized and it gives people the wrong idea. So I'm using my personal experience to work towards fixing that tainted idea so I can contribute to raising some actual awareness in the form of something that appeals specifically to teens.
> 
> Putting this aside, I hope this chapter was interesting to read and it gave you the idea I aimed for it to. The story isn't all depressing, however right now our protagonist is going through some stuff, so keep reading to see what happens next with it.
> 
> I'd also like to again thank you guys so much for all the attention my story's been getting and I'd like to give a specific shout out to the lovely individual who asked me if they could translate this fic into Russian! I've been freaking out over it for the past couple days because that means my story is getting big enough to get fucking translated, never mind being good enough for someone to want to put in the hard work and effort to translate it. Here's the link in case any of y'all would like to check it out:
> 
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/5818011
> 
> Thanks so much for reading this. Stay safe, eat well, drink well, take care of yourself, love yourself, and have a non-horrible day or night.


	11. Drowning in a pond while deprecating oneself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another trigger warning for this chapter for persistent thoughts of and talk of suicide, even though it is resolved in talking to someone. I'm gonna start adding these trigger warnings if it's applicable for each chapter. Stay safe.

I was laughing for the first time in literally weeks as Frank had a small breakdown, the two of us again sitting against the bed and talking like we did nearly every night. I wasn’t even thinking about how tomorrow would mark our third month in this place.

“This kinda sucks.” 

“You look fine.”

“I look so weird like this…”

“You look fine!”

There was a little under two minutes of this: Frank complaining about his haircut and me trying to tell him he still looked hot as hell in a very vague and feeble attempt. Why had Frank had a haircut? His dad asked the people to cut his hair so he “would look like a respectable young man and less like a fag”. What was not respectable and “like a fag” about his last haircut, I’m not entirely sure, but I think it has to do with it being slightly long which made me wonder if they were gonna cut my hair because mine had grown down to my shoulders.

“Frank, I am at least able to tell that you have eyes now. Your face is actually visible.” I teased. Yes, your face is visible, and I like that a lot because I like your face.

“I don’t like my face being visible, why do you think I grew my hair in the first place? I don’t like...my face, I dunno.” 

I raised my eyebrows, adding to a look of disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

I suppose everyone had certain irrational insecurities but that didn’t change the fact that I strongly disagreed with his self-image in that area. I shook my head, rolling my eyes a little and crossing my arms. “You’ve got a nice face, just saying, no homo.” 

That made Frank burst out into laughter and I first wondered why, but then I realized the sheer irony of “no homo” coming from me.

“Well, a little homo.” No, a lot homo, okay? We’ve established I am now standing in a pond and saying that is equivalent to taking a step further into a pond and realizing there’s a drop and now finding myself in water up to my chest. I took a step back and made an excuse as if it would hide the fact that I’m all wet now. “I mean like, not that I’m into you or anything.” I excused, rather deplorably. I’m almost 100% sure that making that excuse did the exact opposite of what I intended it to.

He shot me a look while still laughing a little that I couldn’t read and I was blushing on the inside. Yes, blushing on the inside. It’s that embarrassment you get when blushing but without the physical manifestation. “Alright, I feel a little less ridiculous now.” He concluded, laughter still trailing off his tongue a little.

“Let’s hope you can feel completely not ridiculous, because you look great.” I reassured, making a mental note to tone down the almost longing and dreamy colour that crawled its way into my voice. It definitely was not helping my whole not-into-you narrative. “Besides, hair grows back.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He sighed and smiled, and I actually smiled back. A full and genuine smile. Not one where only half of me listened to my brain basically saying “Hey fucker, smile” or a forced one. It wasn’t until now that I realized I was feeling alive again during this conversation and that I’d missed it terribly.

“You seem happier.” Frank noted, coincidentally timed with my consciousness. I guess he could tell a fake smile apart from a real one, and I guess I really was seeming as alive as I felt.

“Yeah.” I acknowledged deeply, feeling a bit of relief. “Yeah, I am.” I smiled again, pulling my knees to my chest and staring down at the floor. I suppose with my fleeting confidence I’d still stare at the floor even if I was feeling alright. The thought of that made my smile fade.

“Hey.” Frank said seriously, moving closer to me and tipped my chin up and turned my head to face him slightly. I didn’t wanna look him in the eyes and only did for a split second. “What’s wrong? Seriously.”

I swallowed hard, trying to look back at him. I felt that godawful tenseness in my shoulders and throat and I hadn’t had the urge to cry in such a long time that I wasn’t trying not to and I ended up shedding a tear. I turned my face and brought my hand up to wipe away my tears on my sleeve, but I ended up crying more, but silently into my sleeve.

Why. Why do I have to be like this? Why do I have to be such a weakling and cry whenever something starts going right? Why do things always end up taking a wrong turn? Why can’t I just be happy anymore? You know what, I’m stupid to think I even deserve-

“I’m sorry I brought it up.” Frank apologized, cutting off my thoughts and pulling me into another one of those awkward side hugs. It was also now that I stopped thinking that I was completely full-out sobbing into my sleeve pitifully.

I shook my head, leaning into him, gripping his hand tightly, and shutting my eyes. “No, no. It’s not your fault.” I stifled, still silently cursing myself for crying. How many times has this happened exactly? Three? I think this is the third time.But why did it have to happen now of all the times? Why the hell couldn’t it have been when I was alone?

“I just-” I started. No, no. Don’t start, bitch. Don’t do it. What is is gonna do for you anyways? You’ll just seem annoying and like you’re using him to just rant. Don’t. Fucking. Start. It doesn’t matter. You don’t matter. You’re less than a mere speck in the universe, you’re gonna die one day, probably alone, and be stiff in a coffin and forgotten for the rest of eternity. You really think that means you matter? Nobody would miss you at all if you were just gone.

On another side of my soul, my heart was at war with my mind, telling me I should start and it’ll make me feel better and Frank clearly has no problem with listen to me spew all my thoughts while violently crying, basically fucking nuzzling his shoulder.

Heart: Don’t listen to Mind, Gerard, you need this.

Mind: But he’s gonna seem so annoying and then Frank’s not gonna wanna talk to him anymore, what the hell do you think that’s gonna do for him?!

Heart: Quit it! Don’t you see you’re making him cry more?

Mind: Yeah well maybe he’s gotta man up and just stop crying! Maybe this camp’s good for him. You know, if he were just straight like every other normal person, then this never would have had to happen.

This argument seemed so loud in my soul, like two parts of me were screaming at each other. And I had to pick a side soon, because it was making me cry even more.

“I-” I tried speaking again, but my mind cut me off.

Mind: Stop!

Heart: Just tell him. He’s willing to hear you. He cares about you.

And then of course, my subconscious had to step in.

Subconscious: Just fucking do it, won’t you? You’ve come this far.

And then of course- this had to be the one moment I listen to my subconscious and as I opened my mouth to speak, I decided on listening to my mind. The heart is treacherous, and my subconscious is stupid.

“Why do you even care?” I pulled back to myself and said that as if it would make me stop crying, but it made it worse.

Mind: No, not like that you fuckwit!

Heart: No, not like that you fuckwit!

Subconscious: This should be interesting.

Looks like the actual manifestation wasn’t anything like either of the options I had.

Frank started saying something, but my clumsy mouth just wouldn’t let anything be- not my mind, not Frank, not anything. Not even me. I didn’t even want to speak. Or at least, I thought I didn’t want to speak. But deep down inside of me my subconscious was still telling me that I should.

“My mind is against me.” I choked out brokenly, almost in a squeak, my throat was so tight.

Mind: It’s your heart that’s against you, dammit! Things were so much better when you just felt nothing. Everything’s better when you feel nothing. Look at you now. You’re feeling things and it’s going wrong. It always will.

My mind was again making me cry more with its insensitivity, so I tried making it stop by agreeing with it. “I think it’s right.”

It worked for a moment and I calmed down for that moment, then Frank squeezed my hand and I started wondering more about why he cared about me, because I don’t matter. And I started going on and on about how I didn’t matter, which made me keep crying.

It was just a vicious cycle. I wanted out. You know, I could just go to the washroom and get the pencil sharpener in my bag and kill myself so easily…

“Right about what, Gee?” He cooed gently. I started wondering why again and the same thing repeated in my mind. I wondered if it would ever end.

“No, stop…” I murmured, not at Frank, but at myself or whatever in me was causing this whirlpool of self-deprecating emotions and thoughts, but in this moment I firmly believed that killing myself was the only thing that would ever make this stop. Hell- it truly was. The only thing that could stop this is death, or sleep, and it’s impossible to sleep like this. I suppose this was rock bottom. This was my last resort.

“Stop what?” He asked gingerly, pulling a strand of hair behind my ear. I wish everything except for the self-deprecation and the harsh truth that I was gonna have to kill myself wasn’t so clouded because my subconscious would be so happy to see this. I felt sorry for it, but then I realized that that meant I was feeling sorry for myself which was awfully pathetic and irrelevant because…

Because I.

Don’t.

Matter.

“No, no, not you. I think…” I think what? What did I think? All I was thinking about was how I was gonna kill myself. “I’m gonna…”

No! No, what the fuck are you doing?! I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m just- stop! Stop right there!

And that right there was the one fuzzy, cluttered, argument that made me snap.

“Kill myself.” I mumbled, barely audible. Those six words, even if they were broken up by sobbing and brutal wars in my head, were all too valid when said out loud.

“I think I’m gonna kill myself.” I whispered. That made it final. That was my plan. 

And then I realized how crazy I sounded, but how serious I was, and the fact that I sounded crazy but extremely serious made me realize how scared I was. “Oh god, I think I’m gonna kill myself.”

I drew myself back, hugging my knees, my tears running dry, and staring at the floor with wide eyes. I completely forgot Frank was even there until he pulled me back to him. I found myself clinging onto him once again in a desperate sort of way, and once again starting to sob hysterically.

Frank hugged me tightly as I melted down in his embrace. “Gee…Gerard, please don’t do that.”

“I don’t know why I shouldn’t.”

“Because people care about you. A lot. You have your brother. You’ve got me. You’ve got Lindsey and Jamia and Stella.” He explained in a very solid yet comforting way. “You’re only seventeen, dammit, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

Hell, he was right. I couldn’t do that to anyone I loved. And I wasn’t even middle aged yet. What the fuck am I thinking? How could I have been so thoughtless? How could I have been so fucking stupid?

Mind: How could you not have been so stupid is the real question.

Mind’s words stabbed me like a knife as I let out another sob. “I just want it to stop. Please make it stop. I don’t want to feel this way.” I pleaded, if you will, practically babbling because my speech was so jumbled and barely coherent.

“Shh...it’ll be okay, right?” He soothed. I felt like a baby, crying in his arms as he shushed me gently. I felt kinda stupid, but I was beginning to feel a little better now “You’ll be okay. Someday.” 

I nodded, trying my best to believe it and trying to concentrate on what it felt like to be held rather than concentrating on the awfully mean things that Mind had to say. The feeling of arms bound around me and another person’s scent putting me on some sort of high. Thinking about how it was Frank who was holding me and trying to get me to stop crying helped a lot, seeing that I had a pond-sized crush on him. Concentrating on him and how I felt around him, how I felt when he said something to me, and just everything that he made me feel was slowly helping me and a sense of peace was falling onto me.

That was it. I was gonna concentrate on him. I was gonna concentrate on the pond and drown in the pond rather than the ocean I had drowned in and the undercurrent that pulled me deep.

After about a minute of that concentration, I felt significantly better. I felt calm and at ease. I suppose having a good cry helped me, and realizing what made me feel better right now in this camp was gonna help me in the long run. I managed to sit myself up and collect and compose myself. I turned to Frank, who watched me rather intently.

“Thank you.” I uttered sincerely. Very, very sincerely. I meant it a lot.

“Anytime.” He replied openly, smiling.

I smiled back, then it faded into a more serious expression. “No, like, really. Thank you. I...I really needed that.”

“Well, you seemed like you…” He looked down shyly for a moment, lips pursed. “Like you really needed it. Like I said, I don’t like seeing you sad. People I care about, you know?”

I nodded and again smiled at that sentiment. The clouds in front of my heart and my subconscious started clearing up more. I think my mind needed a little bit more time to calm the fuck down. But my subconscious was telling me it was romance (as if) and my heart was just happy that nothing horrible was happening right now. I felt slightly fluttery because my subconscious was milking the whole romance thing a little too much like it was trying to annoy me. Once my mind cleared up and could function properly, it put my subconscious back in its place and I started thinking a little more realistically: Frank and I were just friends. Him helping me out was nothing that friends wouldn’t do. Perhaps it’s possible that he’s also in a small pond like I am, but likely not because it’s hard to imagine someone could like me that way because, well...it’s me, I’m not really all that important.

This time I intentionally ignored that last part because I wasn’t gonna repeat what just happened. I may have been pretty weak, but I had to have at least a little strength left in me, right? I was now noticing that my regular, casual thoughts were becoming progressively more negative and I’d somehow find a way to deprecate myself even in the most unrelated things. It was strange, but right now I was striving to make it not matter to me. I knew it would come back later, but I didn’t want to deal with it now. Enough had happened for one day.

“God, I probably look like a total wreck.” I joked, but it was probably true- it was hard for anyone to do that much crying and not look like a total wreck. 

He shook his head. “You look fine.” He countered convincingly. Well, not exactly ‘convincingly’ because I wasn’t quite convinced.

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, well maybe I’ll start believing that when you believe your hair looks fine on you.” I half-teased, but I was kinda serious too, crossing my arms again and smirking like I was a thirteen-year-old competing with my fellow thirteen-year-old. We seemed to get like that quite often.

“Oh, come on!” Frank complained in jest, shoving me lightly and laughing a bit. I laughed a bit too.

In my new idea of drowning in the pond, I focused on his laugh. It was strange focusing on such a predictable thing to be focusing on, but I suppose it was predictable because it was a nice thing to focus on. His laugh was sort of like a giggle, or at least had undertones of one. And it was fucking cute. No I mean like, really fucking cute. The fact that I was now shoulder-deep in the pond made me wonder if now was actually an okay time to start fading into flirting. Is that how crushes work? When it’s more than just a shallow little crush is that when you start like, you know, trying to make something happen? Did I even want something to happen?

I shook off thinking everything over and just decided on saying something that came naturally to me. Perhaps that would give me the answer to what I should start doing now. “You know, you always know how to make me feel better. Even if it’s just for a moment.” I stated, turning towards Frank so that I was directly facing him.

The fact that what I said stood out a lot to me from other things I’ve said to him told me that maybe it was safe to start talking a little sweeter. Even my tone, I spoke with a sort of longing in my voice. That may or may not have been from my subconscious, but after it told me to talk to Frank about everything which made me feel significantly better made me start to consider trusting it a little bit more.

“I’m glad, ‘cause if I didn’t, well- I mean like, we’re roommates. And we’re always sticking around each other. I think we’re friends, right?”

I nodded. “Of course, Frankie.” I reassured, almost not believing that he was even asking.

“Well then that’s what friends are for.” He confided, putting an arm around my shoulder.

I believe this put my head underwater in the pond, and I know it really shouldn’t have, and I really felt like I could kiss him again right now and I know I really shouldn’t have. Just looking at him face to face with his fucking arm around me even though friends did that all the time was very easy to dwell on and get all positively flustered about instead of self-deprecating thoughts I could be having. I guess the pond was deeper than I thought it was, or today it just got deeper. 

I’ll say that my infatuation was definitely real at this point as I leaned my head on his shoulder and he didn’t seem to mind at all. I knew that I wouldn’t be constantly feeling it as strongly as in this moment, but this was enough. Even if the feeling was slightly exaggerated or everything was happening a little too fast, it was a good feeling nonetheless. It definitely beat that vicious cycle of hating myself profusely. I think almost anything could, but I didn’t really want to consider all the other options right now, as I was just fine with this one. Would I call it love? No, I wouldn’t. But if things kept going at the rate they were, perhaps one day I could, even if I highly doubted he'd do the same.

It was, nevertheless, enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not gonna spoil the rest of the story, but just so that people have an idea of things and don't misinterpret my depiction, not everything gets better from here because it's not that easy to make everything better. There's still a lot of elements of anxiety and depression I need to address and I'm only starting the buildup. So don't worry, I've got lots more to write for you. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, stay safe, eat well, drink well, take care of yourself, love yourself, and have a non-horrible day or night.


	12. Mr. Heaton, the recovered homosexual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all...I'm so sorry it's late. But it’s a big one so yeah (that sounded oddly sexual, but don’t pay so much mind to me, I’m a dirty minded fuck)! School has started and I've been hella busy. However, you'll be happy to know that I've planned out the rest of the entire story in Docs and this is gonna be around 25 chapters long. I'm debating whether or not to do an epilogue, even though I've written one out. Would you guys wanna see an epilogue? Let me know in the comments, and enjoy the chapter.

After yesterday I decided that I was gonna try to find a way to return the favor of being a bomb friend to Frank. Which meant that today I was gonna eat and try my hardest to be less of a depressed fuck because I now knew he worried and I was gonna be the one to start a conversation today so that he knows that I’m interested in him. Not like, the pond kind of interested, but the kind of interest you demonstrate to show that it’s not a one sided friendship. Him thinking that was my very last intention. Actually, it wasn’t even my last intention- it wasn’t an intention at all.

At lunch, I didn’t even think about eating and just went for it. I just pretended like I had been eating completely normally for the past few weeks and my clothing wasn’t now noticeably baggier on me from being deprived and my crippling anxiety didn’t make me withdraw from eating. I was surprised at how normal I was able to look when picking up the apple (it was green for a change and not red but I doubt that had any importance in my abilities) and biting into it. Frank was rather surprised himself.

“Well that was easy?” He stated, not so much as a question, but with some tone of a question to add an expression with a hint of disbelief but certainly not disappointment.

I managed to down a normally sized bite without wanting to puke. It wasn’t one of those really tiny bites, it was like, actually normal. “I’m trying. I’m gonna have to get smaller clothes if I don’t start gaining some of my weight back, right?” I said, trying to laugh a little to make it come across in a more casual way rather than a sort of know-it-all way.

“Yeah, true. It’s good. Keep going.” He prodded, nodding in approval.

Frank looked like he was able to relax now, which was motivation enough to keep eating and follow through with my plans for today. I was able to finish half of an apple before I started feeling sick which was a drastic improvement from previous days. I tried not to think about it as I downed each bite, but that only worked for a while, which is why I eventually had to stop. I silently cursed myself for not being able to finish the whole thing when I had gotten so far, but I was self-aware enough today to recognize that thinking like that was extremely counterproductive. At the moment, it felt like I could do this every day and as irrational as I know is was to think that looking at my current general mental state, I let myself believe it for now.

Instead of a fourth lecture after lunch, they introduced to us a new “exercise”. We were brought to a small gymnasium where there was nothing but a punching bag standing straight up and a baseball bat beside it. All of us exchanged the same confused look, utterly perplexed at where they could possibly take this. If it were just baseball and the punching bag were there by accident, I maybe wouldn’t do so bad at this because I was on a baseball team in elementary school, but I well knew that things were gonna escalate quickly.

When we were all lined up against the gym wall, a guy dressed in a blue sweater and trackpants with a whistle around his neck stood in front of all us, hands clasped together, probably about to explain why we were here and what we were gonna be doing. He looked like he was in his late twenties, early thirties. Well built, tanned, and not too bad to look at, but not insanely attractive either.

“So, boys- I’m assuming all of you know why you’re at this camp. Some of you have been here longer than the others For your rehabilitation, to become in touch with the man deep down inside you.” He explained, voice echoing in the gym.

I giggled a little at that last part- “the man deep down inside you”. Frank looked over to me, first confused, but soon enough he got it and elbowed me a little. I figured I’d better stop giggling before I was asked something stupid like “Is there anything you’d like to share with the group?” like they do in school, all patronizing-like.

“Many of you, if not all of you, have not been raised properly, and as a result, have turned out…” He continued, not wanting to say the next word.

Gay. It’s gay. We’re gay. Homosexuals. Just say it. Gay, that’s called gay! It’s not a fucking cuss!

“...turned out to be gay.” He cleared his throat after getting a strange look from Jack that I couldn’t really read. “Anyways, we’re introducing a new exercise. My name is Mr. Heaton, and I am a recovered homosexual, and what we’re about to do today is gonna help you as much as it helped me.”

Alright. First off, “recovered homosexual”- what? They say it like it’s an illness. Well, that’s what they think it is, but it’s still fucking stupid. Secondly, “as much as it helped me”- more like “as much as it fucked me up”, the guy looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He’s got a major case of dark circles, and I imagine him so firmly exuding being a “recovered homosexual” did and still does hell on his mental health, because you don’t just stop feeling what you’ve felt ever since you were a little kid and you saw that first gorgeous boy. Someone’s gotta really hurt you to beat that out of you, if they can at all. I kinda almost felt bad for him and I wondered if it was all an act he was putting on. Maybe he did this whole camp thing to make his parents happy or something, or he had nowhere else to go.

“Now, the way you feel has a lot to do with your upbringing and not having a strong male figure to show you what it’s like to be a real man and how to really be in touch with your identity.” Mr. Heaton declaimed, almost seeming like he was trying too hard, and I really started to wonder about his life now. I was developing a whole story for him in my head. 

“As you can see, there is a punching bag and a baseball bat in the centre of the gym here. What you’re gonna do is pretend like the bag is the man in your life who was never there for you, and for most of you, that would be your fathers.” He said the last part somewhat solemnly, too solemnly, like he understood a fraction of the pain that came with being gay, and not sternly like Jack probably would. If Mr. Heaton wasn’t doing this whole camp thing, he would probably be a really great person for us to talk to.

“You can do whatever you want to the bag. You can hit it with the baseball bat, kick it to the ground, yell at it. Don’t be uncomfortable, get into it. You can even laugh at it. Do what you want to. Got it?” He prompted, looking at all of us. There was a mutual nodding, and some guys looked like they were looking forward to this, Frank included, which actually made me really sad. He almost had a glare when he looked at the bag, and it seemed like his heart was beating a million miles per hour in his chest.

I, on the other hand, really didn’t want to do this. It seemed really awkward and I really wasn’t a violent person at all. I never liked violence, and they’d probably say that’s because I’m gay because they’re utterly fucking stupid. Mr. Heaton was right about my dad not really being present in my childhood, and he still isn’t really. He’s always on business trips and I really only see him on holidays, sometimes not even then. That reminded me- I’d probably missed Christmas and New Year’s and I wondered if Mikey had texted me about it. I’d totally lost track of time here, which also made me realize I hadn’t gone outside in months. I didn’t go outside a whole lot to begin with, to be completely honest, I was like a vampire when it came to being in the sun, but I still went outside more in a week than I had in the past few months.

Holy shit- that meant it was no longer 2004. That’s...that’s really weird. Well, happy 2005, I guess.

They lined us all up outside the gym in single file and Frank and I were near the end of the line. People were talking and they weren’t being scolded for it, so that was good. At least we could have some conversation instead of just waiting in horror like we did every morning for the shock therapy, although Frank, me, and everyone else who stayed extra months had gotten considerably used to it by now. I snapped myself out of my thoughts and took this as an opportunity to be the one to start the conversation with Frank.

“So this one is rather...different.” I opened, my iffy-ness about the whole activity emanating in my voice.

“I actually really can’t wait.” Frank replied, eagerly, but sounding really, really, serious. “I fucking hate my dad.” He turned to face me, leaning up against the wall.

I shrugged in agreement. I know shrugging isn’t typically in agreement, but it seemed appropriate for the situation. “I don’t blame you...he sent you to this damn thing, after all.” 

“Yeah, I wish I went to live with my mom instead, but stupid twelve-year-old me wanted to go with my dad and he hasn’t let me go through with all the legal stuff to go live with my mom. I’ve seen her twice in the past four years...fuckin, twice.” He spewed, putting emphasis on the “twice”. “She lives a little shy of three away, it’s a long drive and a really long bus ride, but she’s my mom, for fuck’s sake. Why can’t I see my mom more than twice in four fucking years?” He continued to rant, his voice getting louder, and filled with more frustration and rage at each word.

I pursed my lips, an empathetic expression on my face. Frank had never really told me this much about his relationship with his parents, and I understood why now- if this was my family life, I don’t think I’d exactly wanna talk about it. 

Frank crossed his arms over his chest tightly and I put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s not fair at all, if your dad’s not willing to go through with the legal stuff for custody, the least he can do is take you to see her more often. Even if she lives far away. Where does she live?”

“Belleville.” He stated, and my eyes lit up a bit. That’s exactly where I’ve lived my entire life.

“No way.” I said in disbelief, quietly under my breath, not wanting to cut short Frank’s profound expression of things that have obviously been pent up in him, trying to get back to what I was planning on saying to him.

“What?” He wondered as I was trying to get my train of thought back on track, but I couldn’t just not answer.

“That’s exactly where I live. Where are you?” I revealed, then turning the conversation back to him.

“Atlantic city.” He beamed, smiling. “Dude, I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I mean, we never really talked about where we were from. I just kind of assumed you were out of Jersey because you lived pretty far away from where I was, but I’d fallen asleep on the bus so I guess I didn’t realize we were still in the state.” I shrugged, this time because I was kind of baffled.

That uttered sort of a stifled laugh from Frank. “You have no idea how much of a Jersey kid I am.” He shook his head, still laughing. “I guess I never showed you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Showed me what?” I asked, now rather curious.

“This.” He expressed, right before, pulling on his bottom lip, exposing the inner part, where there in simple capital letters was “NJ” in black ink.

My jaw dropped and I covered my mouth in shock. “What the hell?! Didn’t that hurt? Jesus Christ, that must have hurt! Are you crazy?! Like, don’t get me wrong, it’s fucking cool, but...needles, in your mouth?!” I exclaimed, not being able to comprehend how anyone, scared of needles or not, could handle that, and felt a little lightheaded when imagining it.

“Yeah, it hurt like hell, but it wasn’t like I was getting, like, murdered or something.” Frank was still laughing a bit, probably at me, at my insane reaction. My insane, yet valid reaction, in my mind at least.

I shuddered a little, thinking about what it would be like having a fucking needle in my fucking lip. Well, it’s not like he hadn’t had it before- he had his lip pierced, but tattoos take longer. “Jeez, you’re fearless, aren’t you?”

He shook his head. “Uh, I wouldn’t say that.”

“If needles don’t phase you at all, then what does?” I asked, somewhat in marvel and inquisitiveness, seriously wondering what this tiny man could possibly be afraid of.

Frank chuckled a bit, looking up, seeming embarrassed. He did that looking up and laughing thing on the bus when he told me he had a journal too. I guess he did that when he was embarrassed.

He sighed, deciding to spill. “Spiders. I would rather be trampled by a thousand children than touch a spider.”

I smiled, raising an eyebrow a bit, “I definitely wouldn’t have expected that. You seem like the kind of guy who would be the only one with the guts to kill a spider like, in a classroom, when like, most of the girls are screaming in the corner and stuff.”

“I am one of the girls screaming in the corner.” Frank deadpanned, so seriously. I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit.

“Aw, that’s so cute.” I teased, tilting my head to the side.

“Oh, shut up.” Frank grinned, elbowing me jokingly.

A yell came from the gym and all of us looked to the door, and that was when I realized how much closer to the door I was than when we first lined up. There were ten people before me.

I suddenly felt my stomach drop and felt a little sick. Frank, on the other hand, just looked like he was trying to contain rage and anticipation.

He uncrossed his arms, then crossed them again, and he looked like he was getting really stressed out.

“You alright?” I queried politely, not wanting to stress him out more.

Frank looked up at me, taking a deep breath in. “I’ll be alright. I’ve just got a lot that I gotta like, release, I guess.” 

I couldn’t really see how this exercise could help us. How would making us more angry at someone in our life and manifesting that in violence, even if it was just pretend, help us? I also really didn’t know what to say to Frank, so I just gave a sort of sympathetic look.

Frank seemed like he was getting a little flustered and fished for a conversation starter. “Have you ever thought about being a parent one day? I mean, both of us have had some pretty bad examples. Would you do it?”

I thought for a moment about that. When I was little, I did. I didn’t really know what it took, though. And right now, I wasn’t even thinking about the future that much. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grow up. I didn’t know if I wanted to be anything at all when I grew up and even exist.

“I dunno, I really don’t know what I wanna do. Would you?” I replied honestly, then passing the question back to Frank.

“Yeah, I think so. When I think about my dad I always think like wanna be a better man. And raising a kid would be like undoing the damage he did on me.” Frank explained, seeming like he was calming down a bit at the subject.

I nodded, taking in what he just said. It made sense and I could picture it pretty well. “I can see that.” I agreed. “I think you’d make a good dad. You’re good at taking care of people.”

Frank gave a small half-smile. “Thanks, Gee.”

“I should really be the one thanking you.” I smiled back, shrugging a little.

His half-smile turned into a full smile which relieved me quite a bit. There was a short moment I guess for both of us to just take in this profound moment of recognition, and then Frank opened up the conversation again. “But yeah, with having kids- I don’t think it’s legal for two guys to adopt a kid, seeing that it’s not even legal for them to get married.”

“It is in the Netherlands. In 2000, I think it was. And it’s legal to get married in Belgium but I’m not so sure about adopting. So like...just elope, catch a plane to the Netherlands and...bam.” I describing, making this hand gesture at “bam”.

“Guess I gotta start saving now.” He acknowledged, checking to see how close we were to the door. I looked back too and we were getting way too close.

“I’ve never really thought that much about getting married. I mean, I know what I like, but I suppose I’m just scared to. And like, I don’t personally know a whole lot of guys who like guys.”

“Well, you know me. And you’re kind of surrounded by them right now, in case you didn’t notice.” Frank replied, gesturing to the line, which was even closer than before. There were only two guys in front of me now.

I emitted a sort of embarrassed giggle, which made me feel even more embarrassed because I was probably reddening too at what my subconscious interpreted as Frank suggesting I date him. “You’re right, actually. But like, who knows what happens after the camp, right? I don’t wanna lose contact but like, you live so far away…”

He gave a serious look, one that I had ghosting my face now too. “I don’t wanna lose contact either.” He agreed solemnly. “I guess I’ve just got another reason to push my dad to let me visit my mom and actually turn on my phone for once, then.”

That made me smile again, and made me trip on a stone in the pond and completely fall in it, and I didn’t want to surface. “I guess so.”

It almost made me wonder if Frank had similar feelings for me- actually, no, it made my subconscious wonder. My subconscious was doing a lot of things today that I was noticing. It was getting sort of annoying, but I couldn’t get enough of it, even if staying in contact was something that friends very commonly strive to do as well.

We were in silence for half a minute when I heard someone from the gym call “Way!”, to which I turned around and saw that it was Mr. Heaton calling me. I gulped, swallowing both my spit and feeling like I was swallowing my own heart because it sunk so deep onto my stomach, which felt like it had dropped to the floor. It was a very intense feeling- it was like an anxiety I had never felt before. It was weird, because this wasn’t even the worst of my problems right now. My brain was blowing everything out of proportion, which I didn’t realize at the moment because this feeling was so overwhelming.

I hesitantly stepped into the gym before taking a look at Frank like it was the last time I was gonna see him. What was I even gonna do? I didn’t want to hit the punching bag. I didn’t want to pretend it was my dad while doing it.

Mr. Heaton looked at me expectantly, but I just stood there with one arm crossed over me, staring between him and the punching bag.

“It’s okay, Gerard. You can start small.”

“I don’t want to.” I replied, a little too fast, quiet, but audible and clear.

He took a strong breath in. “Don’t be embarrassed about it. It’s just part of the pro-”

“I’m not doing it.” I replied rather fast again, more firm and loud this time. I felt very determined not to do this and as anxious as I felt, I had some confidence to stand against their request.

Mr. Heaton looked at me with a certain sternness, but in his eyes I saw a measure of understanding when I looked up to meet them. “Gerard, this is a part of the process. It’s required of you to-”

“I said, I’m not doing it.” My voice raised a little more and I crossed my arms over my chest. I felt like a little kid resisting cleaning their room or something, but this was more than just cleaning my room. I was starting to feel like I was about to cry because this thing was causing me so much anxiety. It’s partly their fault I’ve gotten more fucked up anyway.

His expression softened a bit to more understanding than sternness. He nodded, putting a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll have a talk about this later.” He said candidly, prodding me out the other door.

I looked up at him, shocked that he let me go so easily. Why would he do that? Wasn’t he on their side? I suppose I’d find out more about this shocking action during our “talk” later on, but it still confused me. And if I wasn’t confused enough, there was something else to stress over: Frank.

Perhaps this exercise would help him get some rage out because he seemed like he was about to explode when he was talking about his dad earlier on, but maybe it would just make it worse. Maybe it would just provoke rage, because until today, I had no idea just how much he hated his dad. It was like this provoked it or something. At the moment, I couldn’t see any possible good in that.

When he got into the gym, I watched quietly from the opposite side doors. He looked terribly stressed, and he just completely went for it. Picking up the baseball bat, he let out a sound of frustration and swung it so damn hard- the sound that it made was so loud it was almost heart breaking. He dropped the bat and kicked it once it was on the floor.

“Fuck you!” Frank shouted furiously, his hands clenching into a tight fist. He brought one up to wipe away tears forming in his eyes and I felt my own heart completely shatter at that.

“Language.” Mr. Heaton mused, as if that was the real problem here.

He put a hand on Frank’s shoulder and started leading him to the door like he had to me and Frank pulled away from his touch, stopping in his tracks and burying his face in his palms, trying to hide the fact that he was starting to cry. He let out a small choked sob and Mr. Heaton started leading him out again, and more and more followed. I wanted to cry myself and at the same time, I was so shocked to see someone who I knew was so strong in a weak state- and at a weak state from something that happened so, so fast. He wasn’t actually up there for any longer than I was.

He walked through the doors and caught sight of me and totally broke down. I took to opportunity to pull him into a hug and let him cry on my shoulder like he had for me all those times. It seems like someone always ends up crying between the two of us. It wasn’t ideal, but I suppose a benefit to it was that it helped build trust.

The different thing about Frank crying was that he just cried. He just cried and buried his face in my shoulder as I hugged him tight and nothing else. He didn’t make up some excuse for crying, he didn’t apologize for it. He just let himself cry. When I cried, I often tried explaining myself and apologizing for it. Not Frank, he just cried. He wasn’t afraid to let himself cry and look vulnerable. I wanted to be like that one day.

After about two minutes of this, he pulled away and wiped his face off on his hoodie sleeve. “Thanks, Gee.”

I gave him a soft smile. “No problem. It’s about time I returned the favour.”

He smiled back with a bit of a forced chuckle. “You really don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Actually, yeah, I do.” I replied as a matter-o-factly. “It means a lot to me.”

His smile widened and we just kind of stood there, waiting for the rest of the line to go. I looked into the gym briefly and I saw Mr. Heaton looking at Frank and I. A small wave of fear ran through me, because he probably saw us hugging and everything and I didn’t know whose side he was on.

I suppose this was gonna become part of our “talk”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah...that's the chapter. Kind of all over the place because my life is kind of all over the place...there's a lot going on, I've started high school and psychologists are all over my ass and I'm adapting to a new surrounding and new shit in general, including this really, really attractive kid I've befriended that has a 90% of not being straight which may be to my advantage if I actually end up liking them. I've found myself in a teeny tiny puddle of my own, eek, but I'm not gonna be a shallow hoe so I'm really not expecting anything out of this.
> 
> Anyways....stay safe, eat well, drink well, take care of yourself, and have a non horrible day or night.
> 
> Ya boy is out.
> 
> xx  
> Marky

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello. This is another story. Read the next chapter. Cmon. I bet it's just as good as this one being the amazing writer I am *hair flip*.


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